Again she turned her eyes to his—serene and deep—no hint of trouble in them.
"There hath been no question," she said; "there can be no answer, where there hath been no question."
And although he would fain have spoken further, he could not: for that brief moment in which her eyes held his—half-commanding—wholly trusting—was like the sealing of a vow to do her bidding.
Then as she turned away, the echo of a name floated towards him—"Aluisi!" so spoken as no one had ever uttered it before.—Or had he surprised it, written on her soul, in that deep gaze, which she had permitted?
But now the sudden sunset glory of that Eastern clime flamed in the skies, touching the domes and pinnacles of this city of delights with flecks of crimson and purple and molten gold, illuminating the lovely Cyprian landscape with a never-to-be-forgotten light—and Nikosia stood forth radiant against the background of dark environing hills, clothed to their summits with kingly cedars—while in the far distance the sea flashed its silver setting, melting into the opal of the clouds which seemed to rise from its breast.
Was it this fleeting radiance of color that always stirred the birds to sudden, joyous song at the charmed hour of sunset?—that outpoured upon the heavenly breeze, for which the long day often panted, this flood of perfume of a thousand odors? Or was it only because it was Cyprus and for her magic beauty she had indeed been named of all the isles of Greece, "L'Isola Fortunata," beloved of the gods?
But now from the splendid city came sounds of rejoicing—music and vivas—through the gates thrown wide, the tramp of a multitude issuing forth to welcome their Queen, with the homage of loyal hearts,—and her own throbbed almost to breaking. The Vice-Roy and Admiral, Mutio di Costanzo, with his escort of Knights of the Golden Spurs came bringing the keys of the city which had stood for the Queen against the mandates of the Council of the Realm; Stefano Caduna, Leader of the people, stalwart and faithful, brave as a lion, with his devoted guild about him—the judges of the courts and the chief men of the municipality; a chapter of the Knights of St. John, in their white mantles and eight-pointed crosses of red—the new primate of Nikosia, with all the hierarchy of his province of diverse creeds—the burghers—the nobles of the city—they made a welcome that stirred the soul of Caterina and filled it with a hope warm as the presage of the glowing skies.
"Viva la Regina—La ben-venuta!"
The people shouted her name; they thronged to swell the royal procession as she rode through the garlanded streets, in regal state, under the golden canopy which they had brought to do her honor, upheld over her fair young head by four mounted knights of the most ancient houses of Nikosia. Before the portico of the Duomo Santa Soffia the cavalcade came to pause, while Caterina dismounted—the people clinging about her to kiss her hand, to prove their loyalty—until pale from emotion she left them, and passed with all her noble company under the fretted arches of the vast portal, to offer up her orisons—her first act in this city of her adoption, a service of faith and adoration—her first resting-place in her new home, the altar of the church which was one in all lands.