"Tell no one that they are trifles: but listen," he said. "It will take strength, and patience, and wisdom and cunning and grace to rule this people. Shall we ask all this of any woman?" He dwelt upon the words with weighty enunciation.
"Or of any man?" she answered, half-mocking at the demand. "And if he were really a man, and not a god—and if one might choose one's King——"
He shook his head slowly in response. "Our paragon might not be found in the House of Lusignan, perchance. But surely he would not be a Louis of Savoy—nor a Ferdinand of Naples—no more than a Carlotta. Nor any Cyprian noble who hath eyes upon the Crown."
"Not this, also!" she cried, startled; "not this!"
"So rumor hath it; but none is strong enough. It frets me not. I have but told thee since thou art on guard."
"Is there a remedy?" she asked despondent.
"It is not hopeless. The Ministers must rule the land. We must choose our men and bide our time. Our Queen, by her grace, shall win the people's hearts: and all may be well."
"And the little Prince—under her training?—For she will teach him love and justice. She hath vowed him to the service of his land."
"Aye, he is our hope. We must guard her kingdom for him."
Then suddenly his face flamed with wrath. "This Council of the Realm were arch-traitors!" he said fiercely, "and to think that they escaped death!—Wresting power for their own ends—taking no concern for Cyprian interests—they 'forget' the tribute which assures to Cyprus the support of our Suzerain, and wait for Venice to come with careful inquiry to set such failures right! But what cared they whether the provisions of a solemn treaty were kept or broken? They had no thought of honor—they wanted power to overturn the throne—not to uphold it.—The masterful meanness of such creatures is beyond comprehension!"