"Never!" cried the duke indignantly; "he King of Naples! Nay, dream that
the town is shaken to its very foundations, that the people rise as
one man, that our church bells sound a new Sicilian vespers, before the
people of Naples will endure the rule of a handful of wild Hungarian
drunkards, a deformed canting monk, a prince detested by them even as
you are beloved!"

"But why is Andre blamed? What has he done?"

"What has he done? Why is he blamed, madam? The people blame him as
stupid, coarse, a savage; the nobles blame him for ignoring their
privileges and openly supporting men of obscure birth; and I,
madam,"--here he lowered his voice, "I blame him for making you
unhappy."

Joan shuddered as though a wound had been touched by an unkind hand; but
hiding her emotion beneath an appearance of calm, she replied in a voice
of perfect indifference--

"You must be dreaming, Charles; who has given you leave to suppose I am
unhappy?"

"Do not try to excuse him, my dear cousin," replied Charles eagerly;
"you will injure yourself without saving him."

The queen looked fixedly at her cousin, as though she would read him
through and through and find out the meaning of his words; but as she
could not give credence to the horrible thought that crossed her mind,
she assumed a complete confidence in her cousin's friendship, with a
view to discovering his plans, and said carelessly--

"Well, Charles, suppose I am not happy, what remedy could you offer me
that I might escape my lot?"

"You ask me that, my dear cousin? Are not all remedies good when you
suffer, and when you wish for revenge?"

"One must fly to those means that are possible. Andre will not readily
give up his pretensions: he has a party of his own, and in case of open
rupture his brother the King of Hungary may declare war upon us, and
bring ruin and desolation upon our kingdom."

The Duke of Duras faintly smiled, and his countenance assumed a sinister
expression.

"You do not understand me," he said.

"Then explain without circumlocution," said the queen, trying to conceal
the convulsive shudder that ran through her limbs.

"Listen, Joan," said Charles, taking his cousin's hand and laying it
upon his heart: "can you feel that dagger?"

"I can," said Joan, and she turned pale.

"One word from you--and--"

"Yes?"

"To-morrow you will be free."

"A murder!" cried Joan, recoiling in horror: "then I was not deceived;
it is a murder that you have p