The Press., 1903-11-12
WHEN A QUEEN WAS MADE
By cURRAN R. CREENtEY
Copyright, lsOs. by T. 0. Mcclure

|
 Night in Venice. The day was done, but the merriment only waxed the louder with the coming of the stars. There was glitter of golden banners along the Grand canal and the silent hurrying of many gondolas, for Venice was en fete. The treaty with Cyprus had been formally ratified, and that day the republic had formally adopted the slim patrician maid. daughter of Venice, that she might become the mother of kings to be.
 A great destiny for the shy child of scarce fourteen years. But as Caterina leaned from her easement, the golden hair falling down the wall In a nimbus light, her thoughts were not of King James de Lusignan nor that storied kingdom of Cyprus oversea, not of them, for maiden thoughts are white winged birds that go where they list, but of one slender youth whose eyes sought hers across the darkness, where he stood in the shadow of the closed portals of the Morosini palazzo across the canal, so near that he could note the gleam of the scarlet light on the golden head, so far that the sword of a nations destiny flashed between them. A kings bride-what chance had he, Andrea Morosini, cavalier and poet, and a Morosini, the ancient enemy of her house?
 There had been days when old Cor. naro's daughter had watched concealed behind her easement draperies to see him go forth with the young knights. There had been soft starlit nights when he had watched that selfsame easement and poured forth his soul to the silken sweet tones of his lute. One night when her nurse nodded drowsily the small white hand had dropped a great languorous white rose into the prov of his gondola, and after that there had been a moment in the great cathedral when he had pressed close and held the little hand for a moment In his. That was all, and there could be no more for Cornaro's child, the daughter of Venice, but the lad had dreamed his dreams and gone merrily forth to battle with the Genoese. It had been a month. a long month, when hs returned, and all the bells were ring Ing In honor of Caterina.
 The twilight died, but the blaze of eestal beacons flashed from tower to tower. Over there in the Cornaro pa lazzo there was a perfect carnival of music and laughter. Andrea's face grew winter in the reflected glare. He could see as the breeze blew aside the cur tains many figures passing to and fro In that upper room. They were robing for her sacrifice in that maiden cham two long years.
 No longer a Venetian maiden, the ceremony that would presently take place before the high altar of St. Marks would make her a crowned queen, We'll. he would go to the wars again. There was always the Genoese to battle with. He might even win the holy sepulcher.
 Was there no way? He would have given his soul for one word with her face to face. Andrea flung the lute far out. where 1t sank into the dark wa ters. He would never need 1t again. Overhead all the bells of Venice called to one another, and the lap, lap of the hde sobbed beneath as the under note of human pain that beats a minor tone to all the joy of life.
 Caterina stood up straight and tall In the midst of her maidens. The jew eled robe fell close to the round, young limbs, heavy with its weight of pearls. Pearls and rubies were twined in the golden curis. and the fair, round arms were banded with glowing gems of the orient. Across the childish breast, above the folds of cloth of gold, a baldric of emeralds rose and fell with avery frightened breath, and the wild lose color was gone from cheek and auivering lip.
 Straight and tall in her young majes- ly, but over the blare of the trumpet, he flash of the jewels, deeper than the voice Of Venice in loud acclaim, came the low note of lute that was stilled forever. There was 6 strangeness in her throat, blackness before her eyes. Awed at her silence, the flock of naidens fell little away from where she stood, and then there came an old woman, bowed and weary, through the velvet portals.
 When the attendants would have baTr@d the way Caterina held out her hand. As. the old woman bowed be- lore her she opened the palms of her brown hands an instant, 60 quickly that none saw but Caterina. who drew quick breath and turned to the wait Ing throng with a new authority. Leave us. I would have speech with the dame alone"
 Wondering, they left her, and as the 1oor changed to the old woman slipped he iron bar into place and then stood ap, the gray wig thrown o6. the wom- ln trappings cast asade, Andrea Moro dni.
 One step toward Caterina,. and he held out his arms. With a low, glad ery she nestled into them, and for one song moment of heaven his lsps lay on Aers, while below the Grand canal pull lated with the music and triumph of queens bridal.
 The seconds licked away. There was 10 past, no future. Then St. Marks called to the outermost mole, and the sound of feet came along the stone corridor, pausing at the barred door. Daterina started and paled. Her father, tre Cornaro! The steps died away. Then . noise behind them startled them Not ten paces Guido Cornaro leaned on his great sword, and their frightened eyes were met with lock 50 stern that for time they were speechless. He had entered through door of which Catering had no knowl- edge, built by some jealous Cornaro of long ago, who had caused this place of espial to be made that he might the better prove his fears. Indeed they might all have been carven stone. There was no motion iA the room but the waving of the arras in the evening breeze that blew through the easement the slender youth in his cavalier garb