e, the young
count nearly lost his reason. In vain had his father, Charles of Artois
(who was Count of Aire, a direct descendant of Philip the Bold, and one
of the regents of the kingdom), attempted by severe admonitions to stop
him while yet on the brink of the precipice: Bertrand would listen to
nothing but his love for Joan and his implacable hatred for all the
queen's enemies. Many a time, at the close of day, as the breeze from
Posilippo or Sorrento coming from far away was playing in his hair,
might Bertrand be seen leaning from one of the casements of Castel
Nuovo, pale and motionless, gazing fixedly from his side of the square
to where the Duke of Calabria and the Duke of Durazzo came galloping
home from their evening ride side by side in a cloud of dust. Then the
brows of the young count were violently contracted, a savage, sinister
look shone in his blue eyes once so innocent, like lightning a thought
of death and vengeance flashed into his mind; he would all at once begin
to tremble, as a light hand was laid upon his shoulder; he would turn
softly, fearing lest the divine apparition should vanish to the skies;
but there beside him stood a young girl, with cheeks aflame and heaving
breast, with brilliant liquid eyes: she had come to tell how her past
day had been spent, and to offer her forehead for the kiss that should
reward her labours and unwilling absence. This woman, dictator of
laws and administrator of justice among grave magistrates and stern
ministers, was but fifteen years old; this man; who knew her griefs, and
to avenge them was meditating regicide, was not yet twenty: two children
of earth, the playthings of an awful destiny!

Two months and a few days after the old king's death, on the morning of
Friday the 28th of March of the same year, 1343, the widow of the grand
seneschal, Philippa, who, had already contrived to get forgiven for the
shameful trick she had used to secure all her son's wishes, entered the
queen's apartments, excited by a genuine fear, pale and distracted, the
bearer of news that spread terror and lamentation throughout the court:
Marie, the queen's younger sister, had disappeared.

The gardens and outside courts had been searched for any trace of
her; every corner of the castle had been examined; the guards had been
threatened with torture, so as to drag the truth from them; no one had
seen anything of the princess, and nothing could be found that suggested
either flight or