When the chimes of the campanili had dimmed to a faint cadence, like some unuttered rhythm of thought, as the distance grew between the outsailing fleet and all that pageantry of Venice, two faces stood forth like visions from the bewildering pictures of the morning and dwelt with Caterina forever.
The pleading face of the Mother deep with tenderness, yet shadowed by an unspoken dread of the unknown that lay beyond:
And the gaze of the saintly Patriarch, Lorenzo Giustiniani, full of strength and inspiration.
It was early summer, when the mere living was a joy; and there was much time for gracious dreaming as the galleys of Cyprus floated down the length of the Adriatic and past the fair coasts of the Mediterranean, before the coming of that wonderful day of days when the bridal fleet was nearing the shores of the Isola Fortunata which had been for long the Mecca of the young Queen's girlish visions.
It lay before her radiant under the Cyprian sky—palaces and ramparts stretching in long lines a-down the coast, against the background of mountain ranges, densely wooded and crowned with the sparkling snows of Troödos; there were gardens rainbow-dyed in bloom, cool with the spray of fountains and the shadows of waving palms; and between the cities were wonderful, fertile plains flowing down to the foam of the sea—a vision of tangled blossoms wreathing with beauty the shattered splendor of temples of outworn divinities, or rippling with tasselled corn and vines and all manner of fruit-bloom, in luxuriant promise of present good.
What could there be but happiness in such a home! Already the spell of the fabled Cyprian isle was upon her,—could she ever forget this first vision of her land of dreams—fairer than even her hope had limned it!
As she stood with beating heart, waiting with impatience that she scarce could bear for the first touch of her new, strange shore, for the first glimpse of her lover's face—all her pulses tuned to this harmonious rhythm of sky and sea and romance, it was told her that a messenger waited to speak with her.
"Let him approach," she said, turning half-unwilling to watch a knight who advanced, unattended, bearing a missive with the pendant royal seal of Cyprus that she knew so well. He knelt before her, vizor down, yet with the customary homage; then, rising—
"I am sent by his Majesty the King," he said, "to bear his greeting to his most gracious Sovereign Lady, or ever her foot shall touch the shore which blossoms for her alone."