e incorruptible magistrate on account of some
sentence passed against him, and the murder would therefore be put down
to motives of private revenge. The cowardly wretch gave a sign to two or
three companions, who surrounded the victim and robbed him of all means
of escape. The poor old man looked fixedly at his assassin, and asked
him what he wanted. 'I want you to lose your life at my hands, as I
lost my case at yours!' cried the murderer, and leaving him no time to
answer, he ran him through with his sword. Then the rest fell upon
the poor man, who did not even try to call for help, and his body was
riddled with wounds and horribly mutilated, and then left bathed in its
blood."

"Terrible!" murmured the queen, covering her face.

"It was only their first effort; the proscription lists are already
full: Andre must needs have blood to celebrate his accession to the
throne of Naples. And do you know, Joan, whose name stands first in the
doomed list?"

"Whose?" cried the queen, shuddering from head to foot.

"Mine," said the count calmly.

"Yours!" cried Joan, drawing herself up to her full height; "are you
to be killed next! Oh, be careful, Andre; you have pronounced your own
death-sentence. Long have I turned aside the dagger pointing to your
breast, but you put an end to all my patience. Woe to you, Prince of
Hungary! the blood which you have spilt shall fall on your own head."

As she spoke she had lost her pallor; her lovely face was fired with
revenge, her eyes flashed lightning. This child of sixteen was terrible
to behold; she pressed her lover's hand with convulsive tenderness, and
clung to him as if she would screen him with her own body.

"Your anger is awakened too late," said he gently and sadly; for at this
moment Joan seemed so lovely that he could reproach her with nothing.
"You do not know that his mother has left him a talisman preserving him
from sword and poison?"

"He will die," said Joan firmly; the smile that lighted up her face was
so unnatural that the count was dismayed, and dropped his eyes.

The next day the young Queen of Naples, lovelier, more smiling than
ever, sitting carelessly in a graceful attitude beside a window which
looked out on the magnificent view of the bay, was busy weaving a cord
of silk and gold. The sun had run nearly two-thirds of his fiery course,
and was gradually sinking his rays in the clear blue waters where
Posilippo's head is reflected with its green and flo