"I sent them all away, Zia mia: sometimes it seems less hard to bear when I am quite alone."
The Lady Beata bent over her, stroking her hair caressingly, striving for courage to break the silence.
"Caterina mia," she said at last, "it is needful to give some thought to matters of government—the Council will not wait. Hast thou the strength?"
"I must have strength," she answered with instant resolution, rising and laying aside the miniature with a lingering look. "Wilt thou call Aluisi? He ever maketh me understand. It is so new to me," she pleaded feebly, as the Lady Beata did not move.
"Carina, it will be best alone; Aluisi hath asked me to speak with thee. If—if thou wilt read this parchment"—the Lady Beata held it out to her—"it is the Will of the late King, Aluisi hath bidden me give it thee."
"There is no need," Caterina answered listlessly, as the Lady Beata opened it and put it into her hand, "the provisions have been told me."
But the other persisted. "To-morrow—for the Council say that they will not longer wait; it will be read before the Counts of the Chamber, and they would have the Queen take oath of fealty to Cyprus."
"I shall have the strength when to-morrow cometh," Caterina answered wearily, and making a motion to return the parchment.
"There are other clauses; Aluisi thought it might be better to read them here—alone—before—before——" Her face was blanched and pained, and her words came with difficulty.
The young Queen looked at her in surprise, then, after a moment's indecision, dropped her eyes upon the page and read the short clauses through; then once more—as if she did not understand—then again, a scarlet flush growing as she read.