"_It is the will of Venice._"

Where were the nobles of this country tossed hither and thither like a
shuttle-cock at the will of the strongest, that they would not arm for
resistance--nay--wrapped themselves in sullen silence in the seclusion
of their estates, or gathered in great companies to plunge into the
forests and forget their vexations in the comradery and excitement of
the chase, while for Caterina the slow days passed in agonized entreaty
that some miracle might yet chance to save the realm for Cyprus?

Sometimes a wild hope came to her that this extremity might stimulate
them to an uprising to save the integrity of their land: but a few words
with those of the Council most devoted to Cyprus convinced her that the
hope was futile. The days of national ambition were over for this people
of many races: their luxuries sufficed for their content and lulled them
into a lethargy which had so deadened their perceptions that the gradual
encroachments of Venetian power could reach this climax without arousing
them to action.

Even the burghers who had so valiantly defended their Queen in earlier
days looked on in mournful inertia while preparations for the royal
progress went forward, knowing that if Venice thus joyfully accepted the
'resignation' of their Queen--for thus had the act been freely
translated to the Cyprian people--they were themselves powerless; and
the day of farewell dawned at last, when the royal cortege passed out
from the palace-gates to the grand Piazza of Nikosia, where the formal
act of renunciation was to be made.

It was a long and ceremonious procession--the high officials of the
realm were there in splendid vestments, with many Venetian functionaries
in crimson dignity among them--with a numerous escort of guards in full
armor--with companies of cavalry and men-at-arms, while, in their midst
the Queen, in regal velvet and pearls, rode surrounded by the knights
and ladies of her court. But the color of her robe was black, as were
also the garments of her maids of honor--of satin, soft and lustrous,
reflecting the lights from their jewels as they gleamed in the
sunshine,--yet, to the Embassy of Venice the sombre choice was
displeasing, as an unpermissible expression of the Queen's sentiments.

"Hath Venice also concerned herself with sumptuary laws for the ladies
of my household?" Caterina asked with ineffable disdain, when
remonstrance had been made. And they, having gained so much, fear