"And that is naught to thee!" the Venetian girl exclaimed in astonishment. "Thy King—is he nothing to thee?"
"One knoweth not," the other answered nonchalantly. "There is Carlotta—both of the house of Lusignan; and she might be kinder than King Janus who seized the fiefs of my father because he came not forth to do him homage when he landed with his army from Alexandria."
Eloisà drew herself impetuously away from her companion who was watching her through long, half-closed eyes.
"Thou then—why art thou here?" she exclaimed indignantly, "in service of my beloved Lady, who is so good and fair, if thou lovest her not—nor the King!"
The youthful Dama Ecciva laughed lightly:
"Thou art a veritable turco for fierceness, Eloisà! I have naught against her Majesty, who truly is most fair and gracious—quite other than Carlotta—whom I love not at all! And if I held some grudge against the King for seizing of my father's lands (which broke his heart before he died) one cannot long be churlish in presence of our Janus, who hath a matchless fashion of grace with him, so that all think to have won his favor. Verily, that is a King for Cyprus!—he mindeth one of Cinyras. I must tell thee the tale of our hero of Cyprus some day, Eloisà."
"Aye: but tell me now—how camest thou at Court if the King hath wronged thy house?"
"Such eyes thou hast!—like a frightened child! I know not if I shall reach thy comprehension, were I to answer thee—but I, being only daughter to my father, Gualtier of Montferrat, who had no son—plead with my mother to send me hither when I came of age, to do homage loyally to King Janus, and claim our fiefs of him again—I being his vassal by right of long generations past—there was no other way."
"A vassal so loyal doth honor to him and thee!" the warm-blooded Venetian maid cried scornfully, with a toss of her dainty head.
Again the Lady Ecciva laughed lightly, but no shadow of discomposure marred the exquisite outlines of the beautiful, cold face: the skin, delicate and fine as ivory, showed no flush of color: her eyes and tresses were dark as night—the eye-brows slender, yet marking a perfect arc—the eyes beneath them tantalizing, inscrutable—the mouth rosy as that of a child—the fingers long, sinuous, emphasizing her speech with movements so unconscious that sometimes they betrayed what her words left unguessed.