"'Ye are like to know what best might suit Her Majesty—both being of Venice,' Rizzo made answer; and dismissed the Council."
Neither of them spoke for a few moments.
"How will Andrea accept this insolence?" the Lady Beata questioned.
"There is more—far more than that for anxiety," Aluisi said, dismissing her question with an impatient gesture. "I would that the Queen and the child were here—in their own palace—or that we were there. The question hath turned to one of larger import than the good pleasure of the Queen; or the wisdom of holding the Queen and the Prince Royal in a fortress, when the land is not at war—as if her own people might not be trusted with her life. But the argument did not touch the Council—not more than the whim of us—of Venice"—he spoke bitterly. "Before, it was expedient. Now——"
"There may be some scheme behind it, and I would we were there. She hath none of her own beside her, if trouble should come."
"She hath Dama Margherita—who loveth her well."
"Dama Margherita," Bernardini echoed, and a feeling of peace came over him.
But the Lady Beata sat pondering, in troubled silence. What could it mean? Caterina had taken up her residence in the fortress before her illness; it had been thought wise, although it had not been publicly declared. A few of her maids of honor and Lady Beata, Chief Lady of her Court, had gone with her. But before the baptism, her suite had returned to the palace, that all might be as usual for the reception of the royal guests; the Queen had lingered from day to day, partly that she might escape the crowd and keep more quiet until the festivities were over. But now—was it of her own choice? Why did she not return?
"And now—what wilt thou do?" the Lady of the Bernardini asked at length, turning towards her son, failing to see what course of action might be wisest. "May we not go to her to-night?"