Part 2 (1/2)
But now--at last--the hour was the people's once more, for the Serenissimo stood on the balcony above the portal of San Marco, between the great golden horses, with the Daughter of Venice beside him--the sunlight irradiating her white robes and beautiful, girlish face.
”Caterina--Regina--_Figlia di Venezia_--_Nostra Venezia_!” A great cry rent the air; it came from thousands of hearts and thrilled her own to its core, and the first, great emotion of her young life swept through her, transforming and wholly possessing her.
A mist swam before her and her heart throbbed as if it would break: she dimly saw innumerable faces leaning to her from roofs and balconies and windows, and below in the great Piazza, the dense ma.s.s of the people with faces offering love and homage, lifting their children to clap their tiny hands for her--it was wonderful--beautiful--had the Madonna, indeed, given her so much!
The mist cleared before her eyes and each face, to the remotest corners of the Piazza stood out individualized, while a sudden great love of humanity was born within her. ”She would pray to make her people happy--she would be something to the poor and suffering ones of her distant land of Cyprus--the Holy Mother would teach her----”
It was the supreme moment that does not come to all, yet when it comes holds the making or the marring of a life--as the lightning gleams for an instant only through a rift of cloud, awe-inspiring and too luminous to be forgotten. To Caterina, on the verge of womanhood, it came with the force of a prophetic vision, giving her sight of the tie between a queen and her people--it was like the strong mother-love of a great woman--all-embracing; the splendor of the pageant, the personal homage had no longer part in the exaltation of that great moment--it was the _real_ beneath it all that stirred her soul. She lost herself in the emotion, seeking only for expression; she opened her arms wide to them as if she would embrace them all, turning on every side to smile her heart out to them--tossing kisses to the children who clapped their eager hands for her--scattering suns.h.i.+ne with that rare magnetic power which is the most wondrous gift that Heaven can bestow.
”_Simpatica!_” the responsive people cried with glowing faces.
”_Angiola!_--_Tanto Simpatica!_”
The Lady Fiorenza standing where she could see the face of her child gave thanks for the vision, with joyful tears.
”This hast thou granted her, _Madonna mia Beatissima_, for a wedding gift!”
IV
Now that the brilliant pageant of the Betrothal had taken place, life went on serenely in the Palazzo Cornaro in San Ca.s.san, while the seasons came and went and Caterina developed into a charming maiden of seventeen--expanding in the gracious atmosphere and the wonderful new joys that it brought her, as a rose matures to its most radiant perfection in the suns.h.i.+ne. Her eager mind which had hitherto known only the meagre culture bestowed upon young Venetian maids of her time and estate, awoke with ardent response, growing with leaps and bounds to meet the new demands--yet always deepening because the spring of her will had its impulse in n.o.ble emotions.
Her thin, restricted life had suddenly overflowed with interests: the boundaries of her vision had opened far beyond the narrow confines of the lagoons of Venice and the Euganean hills, as the consciousness dawned upon her of a world that had been rich in beauty and vital memories before Venice began to be. Life was beginning to pulsate tumultuously in her veins; her heart was awaking. All the fulness and delight of this germinal spring-time she owed to the lord and lover who was waiting for her across the s.h.i.+mmering, beckoning sea. What wonder that her maiden heart should cling to him with a pa.s.sionate trust, while all her sweet self grew in shy loveliness out of the dream that she was fas.h.i.+oning, and the deepening currents of her being flowed purely about this vision of her betrothed, enthroning her love with her religion in one centre.
The mimic court in the Palazzo Cornaro, under the supervision of her monitors of Venice, was already attracting distinguished strangers--for the element of romance in her position made the salon of the future Queen of Cyprus the feature of Venetian social life; and long hours of eager study with masters of the many tongues spoken in the Cyprian court--alternating with the teachings of her mother's n.o.ble friend, the Patriarch, as he sought to familiarize her with the early Christian story of her distant island, proved the quick grasp of her mind--giving dangerous hints of strength which, if disregarded, might thwart the moulding purpose of the Signoria. So it seemed wise to forestall her questionings with such historic glimpses as should fascinate her with her realm to be, while Venice was silently smoothing out the crumples of that distant Cyprian sh.o.r.e; and it was fitting that the bride of Ja.n.u.s should make acquaintance with the literary and legendary treasures of this fabled isle of poets, for the house of Lusignan had been known for its taste in literature. But of a certain proverb current in Cyprus in the days of the Lusignans, the watchful Senate took care that she should be left in ignorance, _Ce n'est pas Minerve qui est nee en Chypre_! and that Chief of the Ten whose difficult duty it had become to supervise the education of Caterina was giving peremptory instruction to the newly-created Historical Secretary to the Queen-elect:
”Begin with thy narration far back in the days of the Greek myths--she hath much poetry in her soul. Take her carefully over the early Christian traditions--she doth most seriously incline to venerate the Church:--there is food in these matters to consume much time.”
”And then, Eccellentissimo, one may venture to tell the story of the House of Lusignan?”
The research of the learned Secretary had brought him in contact with Cyprus, but it had not inclined him to make fancy pictures of its kings.
”Of Guy--the founder--and of the Crusades; it is a tale a maid may hear,” the Capo responded grimly. ”Of gleanings, now and again, through the pages of the chronicle, as it may be wise. She hath not the judgment to endure it all, being yet scarce more than a child--and with leanings rather toward Church than State, being over-much under the influence of the Lady Fiorenza--_over-much_.”
The words came with pauses which lent them force, and the new Secretary, being Senate-trained, lost none of their significance.
”Thine office doth demand discretion,” the Chief continued, fixing the other with his piercing gaze. ”One should choose the tale that may best please--that she may go glad-hearted and with a maiden's fancy.”
”Aye, your Excellency--for maids and women are not as men; and facts not over-gentle may be best untold.”
”Nay--not that--not that: but there is time--much time--and for the present the care shall be to delight.”
”It is the office of a courtier, Eccellentissimo; it befools a scholar,”
the Historical Secretary exclaimed with indignation. ”There be poets and romancers who would do it honor, rather than I--who have spent long years among the records searching for truth, that I may leave a chronicle to trust.”
”And most unworthily, Signor Segretario, if thou hast found no least trace of the great philosopher Zeno in the ancient city of Cition that was his birthplace; nor of Homer, that maker of literature, who hath, perchance, won s.p.a.ce enough in the estimate of mankind to be worthy the brief thought of a child--even of thine--a scholar seeking for truth--he being the pride of Salamis.
”But the Signoria have never learned the backward step that they should withdraw an appointment which conferreth unwilling honor,” the Chief concluded coldly. ”Thou shalt find some beauty in the legends of the Cinyradae, or the myths of Aphrodite, in this land of Cyprus where the G.o.ddess rose from the foam of the sea!”