faithfully
counsel thee and from his heart, will fall the enmity of the Republic
who hath _forbidden him to fail_ in his mission. And what is left for a
patrician who hath suffered exile and confiscation, but death and the
extinction of his house? This will be thy doing."

She sprang up, attempting to reach a silken cord that swung upon the
wall near her; but Cornaro raised his hand above her and lightly tossed
it aside.

"No one shall come between us until I have thy promise: it lieth between
me and thee."

"I need some one to help me," she implored; "and Aluisi is of our Casa
Cornaro,--he would understand."

"Two are enough," he said,--"nay, too much; for where the matter is
urgent, one sufficeth."

She sat on mutely, wrestling with her problem.

From the time that she had first known of her royal destiny, problems of
rights of governments had never been put before her in unpartisan,
clear-cut lines of white and black--as right and wrong: her judgment had
been intentionally befogged by those who should have been her teachers,
until she found herself Queen by coronation and inheritance, consecrated
in her right by the awful seal of the great High-Priest Death--before
whose inviolable silence questions cease, and the scroll of the closed
life is no longer searched, save with eyes that blur the lines through
overflowing mercy.

It had been easy for Venice to retain her ascendency over Caterina by
intensifying her dependence, by fostering the distinctively feminine and
predominant side of her nature--by insisting upon abnormal claims to her
duty, her obedience, her love, her gratitude.

When the eyes of the Queen had finally been opened to see the danger of
these claims of Venice, it was already too late, for the freedom of her
realm had been inextricably tangled in the toils of Venice. Since then
she had struggled with all her soul to govern her recalcitrant people by
the only power that she believed in or possessed--the power of love. But
it was love with little knowledge of the problems of nations or the
measures needful to cope with the disaffected nobles who were numerous
enough to create an influence and who cared rather for their own
pleasure, than for any duty that they owed to enhance the unity or moral
splendor of their land.

"My Husband left me Queen," she said at last, raising her troubled eyes
to his. "It was by his Will that I rule. Have I the right to yield this
power?"

"POWER!"

She recoi