Caterina laid her hand affectionately on her cousin's arm, in response to his question. "Aluisi," she said gravely, "my Uncle Andrea hath been more than kind—as to a child who asketh only baubles: but, truly, he will not see that one may not rest content to be always a child: he thinketh, perchance, that for women there is no duty but to move regally in the midst of a splendor where he would verily pour out his fortune. A question fretteth his mood, which persistence maketh not more serious. But in a kingdom where discontent hath a share, one must study the heart of the people and win it, if one may. And this is my way to help my husband. The look of the peasants maketh me weary—as if the sunshine of their beautiful land were not for them. I miss the happy faces of our people of Venice!"
"It is a queen-like task," he answered her, a little wondering at her gravity and purpose. "Meanwhile I will talk with the King's Chamberlain about the fiefs and about the old nobility," he continued, eagerly seizing the least tangled thread to draw this uncomfortable conversation to a close; "would not the Lady Margherita de Iblin know far better than I? Shall I ask my mother to send her hither?"
The Lady Margherita—the one of all her Cyprian maids of honor who had most warmly won her friendship—there was no older nor more noble family in the island than the De Iblin; why had she not thought of her before!
"Aye, bid her come hither," she answered, well-pleased; "we will rest together in the heat of the day and she shall tell me many things of Cyprus."
But the Chamberlain felt some uneasiness as he went in search of the Cyprian lady who was to be the Queen's companion in more than one long, frank talk. If she were to presume too much upon Caterina's knowledge and speak too freely, what might happen when the King returned? Might he not vent his displeasure on Aluisi himself? And if he were to be dismissed to Venice, who would watch for her as he could do—protect and help her?
But it was true that she ought not to be kept in ignorance of Cyprian affairs, and she herself had made the demand.
In the days that followed, Cyprus began to unfold strange problems for the Queen, as its story fell from the lips of the young Cyprian woman whose confidence she had so freely invited.
"Tell me I pray thee of Carlotta—Sister to the King—all that thou knowest," she said.
"It is a long tale, your Majesty."
"And these summer-days will be long, while the King is at the chase; we must seek wherewith to give them some new interest, for the Court is dull without him," she flushed like a shy, young girl, adding as if to cover her show of feeling: "it is dull with so many absent."