"A charming child—with a heart developed and matured like a saint; but with a mind untrained to intrigue, unsuspicious of jealousies, unconscious of any injustice wrought by her husband, not apt to comprehend, perhaps, any grievance of the nobles——"
"May we not help her?" Dama Margherita interrupted eagerly. "She would give back the fiefs if she knew that they had been misplaced—that any right had been violated. And now—after these confiscations——"
"Aye, there are more lands to satisfy their demands, it is true. But in their pride they might refuse—let her not wonder at it, nor cease from her courtesies. The nobles are rather sullen than overt in their discontent. They do not want Venetian galleys in their waters—though they must welcome them—nor to do homage to a Venetian for the gift of their own lands. And the restoration is less simple than was the confiscation. For temporary lords have been created and these remain to be reckoned with—even if the will were there."
"I am sure, your Excellency, that the will would not be lacking if this matter were understood; for Her Majesty is fair and generous, and eager to do all her duty by her people. It is of them, and never of herself, that her heart is full."
The old Knight looked at her with kindling eyes as he raised her hand to his lips with the gallantry of the time; yet retaining it in his own and petting it in fatherly fashion, for she had been his daughter's friend from childhood.
"Dear Margherita," he said with emotion, "it is well for our dear Queen that thou art so loyal; and well for our distraught land that thou shouldst be near her." He kissed her hand again as he released it. "I spoke but to try thee, my child. If there are those near her whom we may not trust—it is not thou: I know that a de Iblin could not be disloyal."
"To try me—my Lord——! Me!"
She had drawn away from him, wounded and disdainful, her voice thrilling with anger.
But he answered her quietly and sorrowfully. "Could I risk any hurt to thee, cara Dama Margherita, if duty of plainest speech were not imperative? I trust thee wholly—how else could I speak thus with thee? I have never for a moment doubted thee; yet one might doubt one's own loyalty in this court of Cyprus—where, it is told me, there is a most subtle intriguer who seeketh to do thee harm."
"So it be not those whose esteem is dear to me," she answered wearily, still smarting from the hurt, "what matters it?"