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"I speak that you may forget it," he said: "for it seemeth to be a pleasing theme of discussion among you yet should be so no more a mere extravaganza of fancy that our girl-queen might wisely abandon." "Signore!" exclaimed the Lady of the Bernardini, rising indignantly, "I maintain the dignity of our Sovereign Lady's Court, while she perforce, from sore affliction, must be absent.
But Aluisi Bernardini grew somewhat graver than his wont, as the banquet proceeded, while he watched his cousin, the newly-arrived Ambassador, less graciously, his lady thought, than he need have done on this first evening when all were hastening to shower honors upon him.
Yet the heavenly splendor was but for a moment; it faded in sudden gloom, as a bell from the inner chamber called the Lady of the Bernardini to attend the Queen.
For she read it in their faces as the Bernardini and Mutio di Costanzo knelt in the low doorway to offer their homage. But the young Queen seemed to tremble between life and death as she stretched forth her arms to them with a low wail that almost unnerved those strong faithful men. "My Boy! My Boy! your Prince!"
She thought of the King's favorite, her Uncle Andrea Cornaro, as Bernardini spoke debonair, charming yet with a power of scorn and haughtiness beneath his facile exterior which won him the hatred of those who were not his friends.
"Your Excellencies are expected: the citizens await you:" it was said in a tone that meant more than courtesy: Mutio di Costanzo scanned him narrowly. "From whom dost hold thy orders?" he asked. "From the Signor Bernardini, commander of the city," the man answered readily. "Then speak."
Such honors as might be decreed to a fidelity beyond reward had come upon Aluisi Bernardini from the Republic, apt in recognition: and the undying gratitude of the Queen was already his. "What shall I give thee, beloved Cousin?" the Queen had asked him. "Wilt thou be a noble of Cyprus?" "Dear Lady," he answered, "I want but thy favor. Doth it not suffice me that I am a noble of Venice?"
The Cavaliere Trenta, his round face beaming with smiles, is seated in an arm-chair at the top of the largest ballroom. He keeps time with his foot. Now and then he raps loudly with his stick on the floor and calls out the changes of the figures. Baldassare and Luisa Bernardini lead with the grace and precision of practised dancers. "Brava! brava! a thousand times!
And a tale was brought to Bernardini by a group of agitated peasants from the hamlet of Varoschia, that at early dawn a man fully armed, with the semblance of Rizzo "not an apparition, Signore sa but how could one know the face of him with his vizor down? was riding like the wind to Famagosta, and with him a multitude of horsemen, coming very silently.
There had been some further talk not over-much dwelling on vain regrets and then the Lady of the Bernardini had asked, half-reluctantly: "How if some Lady of the Cornari went with her? I having no daughter of my own and loving her well? And thou and I need not be parted." "I dared not ask it of thee," he cried fervently "for it is much.
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