waited impatiently.

There was a motion of her lips, as if she had more to say: but her
strength was spent, so that her voice would not come with her first
effort. Cornaro was conscious as he watched her of his fear lest it
should fail her utterly before she found her speech. He knew what he had
to expect if he did not succeed in his mission, and for him the moment
was crucial; others, for a far less bitter thwarting of the will of the
Signoria, had suffered death--which had been hinted to him. He had meant
to offer this as his supreme argument when all others had failed to
coerce her: but instinctively he held it back, fearing to anger her to
the point of stubborn refusal, for there was some unexpected power of
resistance within the soul of this slight woman.

Just as he was beginning to assure himself that, at all costs he must
use further persuasion, her voice came--far away and colorless:

"And if I yield----?"

He went nearer, almost abject in the joy of this sudden reaction,
promising her with glowing visions, state, glory, luxury, honor, favor
of the Senate, ease, everything that his vivid imagination could seize
upon to tempt the fancy of a woman; but she waved her hand impatiently
to arrest his quick flow of words.

"Not for myself--but for my people--what for them?"

"Everything!" he answered undaunted; "security, prosperity; they shall
be ruled as Venice rules her provinces--ever more wisely than the people
rule themselves. Thou knowest that, because of this, foreign States have
come to plead that Venice would accept their submission."

She knew that this was true; but her heart was like lead within her as
she raised her impotent clasped hands with a sudden, sharp cry of pain.
"My God! my God! I am not faithless to my vow--Thou knowest. I must
choose their welfare, though my heart should break!"

* * * * *

As the Cornaro gave his hand to lead her to her chamber in the light of
the early dawn, she turned to him pitifully imploring his comprehension
of her motive: "The Holy Mother knoweth that I am not faithless to my
people--since with the favor of the Republic turned from me, I might
neither serve nor guard them.--My lot is bitter!"

But the day had dawned for him, if not for her. "Nay; trust me, sweet
Sister and Queen, thou hast chosen wisely," he answered with easy
gallantry, as he kissed her hand and would have left her where the Lady
Margherita stood waiting with