to them, a great light shining in her eyes.

"I carry Her Majesty the strength of your loyalty, dear friends," she
said. "The Madonna be praised--for her need is sore!"

Then, quite silently, and as with a solemn act of consecration, she made
the sign of the Cross before the Leader who was to save the Queen, and
with quick footsteps passed under the peristyle.

"Margherita!"

She motioned him back as he would have followed her, and he stood and
watched her--his heart in his throat--until she had crossed the moat and
been admitted to the Fort--the Lady Margherita--alone--in such a
guise--fearless and direct as ever.

* * * * *

Sunrise was just gilding the sea: it flashed and sparkled as if there
were no woe.

XXII

The horror of the night still lay over Caterina like a dense pall,
clouding her understanding, when the Chief of Council and the Archbishop
passed between the guards whom Rizzo had placed to watch within the
doors of the Queen's chambers, where, prostrated by anguish and anxiety,
one scheme after another for the recovery of her child absorbed her to
the exclusion of all other grief. She looked up dumbly as Rizzo and
Fabrici drew near her couch--her eyes deep with unspeakable misery.

The Lady Margherita, watching near her, was indignant at the intrusion;
she rose and stood before the Queen.

"My Lords, you forget yourselves--Her Majesty hath not summoned you."

"There are moments, my Lady of Iblin, when Majesty is but a farce--and
Power need not do it reverence!"

The Queen heard without heeding the words: but the insolent smile on the
face of the speaker displeased her. She closed her eyes and turned her
head away, imploring them by a gesture to leave her. She had exhausted
every argument to induce them to restore her child or even to disclose
his whereabouts--she had pleaded as only a mother may, but in vain; and
worn by the unequal contest and all unnerved, she now feared to anger
them further with impotent protests lest she should tempt them to
cruelty towards her child.

The Archbishop took a step towards her, pausing for a moment,
irresolute, before attempting further coercion. But the cold glitter in
the eyes of his companion urged him to conclude his task, and he spread
a paper open on the table beside her.

From pity, or from wile, if not from shame, he assumed a tone of
deference as he explained:

"Your Majesty, it will be needful at once to