"Shall I stoop to buy the people of my kingdom?" she asked, a little bitterly. "Is this thy honorable counsel?"
He rose at once. "My Cousin," he said, "thou art not thyself—thine anger doth color thy speech. I crave thy promise to listen fairly to my honest thinking—which it is not over-easy to bring thee." He spoke compassionately.
"Forgive me, Aluisi; I listen."
"Out of thy generous heart, thou wouldst have covered me—who am a Venetian—with Cyprian honors. I thank thee. But I will translate thee to thyself. Was it 'to buy my loyalty?'"
"Nay, nay—but of appreciation—to show thee grace. Thou knowest it, Aluisi!" Her repentance came swift and warm as that of a child.
"I know it well," he answered heartily. "Show but this thy grace to thy Cyprian nobles and win them to thy court. They should come first in favor of their Queen."
"Have I been found lacking?" she asked, slowly; "and if—and if there seemeth little to reward?"
"Reward that little openly, and there shall be more. Bethink thee: there hath been great honor shown the Mocenigo."
"It was so ordered by the Republic," she began in a tone of self-justification; then stopped with a sudden perception of his point.
"Was it for this, perchance, that the Cyprian nobles came less heartily?" he pursued. "Is there no honor that might yet be granted to that most noble knight, the Admiral Costanzo?"