icken attitude,
looking up into the face of her lover, who was delivering himself of his
news.

Charles departed satisfied.

Three days later a man of the Queen's household, one Melazzo, who was
in Duke Charles's pay, brought him word that the seed he had cast had
fallen upon fertile soil. A conspiracy to destroy the King had been laid
by Bertrand d'Artois, Robert of Cabane, Count of Evoli, and the
latter's brothers-in-law, Terlizzi and Morcone. Melazzo himself, for his
notorious affection for the Queen, had been included in this band, and
also a man named Pace, who was body servant to Andreas, and who, like
Melazzo, was in Charles's pay.

Charles of Durazzo smiled gently to himself. The game went excellently
well.

"The Court," he said, "goes to Aversa for a month before the coronation.
That would be a favourable season to their plan. Advise it so."

The date appointed for the coronation was September 20th. A month
before--on August 20th--the Court removed itself from the heat and
reek of Naples to the cooler air of Aversa, there to spend the time of
waiting. They were housed in the monastery of Saint Peter, which
had been converted as far as possible into a royal residence for the
occasion.

On the night of their arrival there the refectory of the monastery was
transfigured to accommodate the numerous noble and very jovial company
assembled there to sup. The long, stone-flagged room, lofty and with
windows set very high, normally so bare and austere, was hung now with
tapestries, and the floor strewn with rushes that were mingled with
lemon verbena and other aromatic herbs. Along the lateral walls and
across the end of the room that faced the double doors were set the
stone tables of the Spartan monks, on a shallow dais that raised them
above the level of the floor. These tables were gay now with the gleam
of crystal and the glitter of gold and silver plate. Along one side of
them, their backs to the walls, sat the ladies and nobles of the
Court. The vaulted ceiling was rudely frescoed to represent the
open heavens--the work of a brother whose brush was more devout than
cunning--and there was the inevitable cenacolo above the Abbot's table
at the upper end of the room.

At this table sat the royal party, the broad-shouldered Andreas of
Hungary, slightly asprawl, his golden mane somewhat tumbled now, for
he was drinking deeply in accordance with his barbarian habit; ever and
anon he would fling down a bone or