thousands of heads were turned upward towards Castel Nuovo to gather any
news that might be announced. Charles respectfully drawing back and
indicating his fair cousin with his hand, cried out--

"People of Naples, the King is dead: long live the Queen!"

"Long live Joan, Queen of Naples!" replied the people, with a single
mighty cry that resounded through every quarter of the town.

The events that on this night had followed each other with the rapidity
of a dream had produced so deep an impression on Joan's mind, that,
agitated by a thousand different feelings, she retired to her own rooms,
and shutting herself up in her chamber, gave free vent to her grief. So
long as the conflict of so many ambitions waged about the tomb, the young
queen, refusing every consolation that was offered her, wept bitterly for
the death of her grandfather, who had loved her to the point of weakness.
The king was buried with all solemnity in the church of Santa Chiara,
which he had himself founded and dedicated to the Holy Sacrament,
enriching it with magnificent frescoes by Giotto and other precious
relics, among which is shown still, behind the tribune of the high altar,
two columns of white marble taken from Solomon's temple. There still
lies Robert, represented on his tomb in the dress of a king and in a
monk's frock, on the right of the monument to his son Charles, the Duke
of Calabria.

CHAPTER II

As soon as the obsequies were over, Andre's tutor hastily assembled the
chief Hungarian lords, and it was decided in a council held in the
presence of the prince and with his consent, to send letters to his
mother, Elizabeth of Poland, and his brother, Louis of Hungary, to make
known to them the purport of Robert's will, and at the same time to lodge
a complaint at the court of Avignon against the conduct of the princes
and people of Naples in that they had proclaimed Joan alone Queen of
Naples, thus overlooking the rights of her husband, and further to demand
for him the pope's order for Andre's coronation. Friar Robert, who had
not only a profound knowledge of the court intrigues, but also the
experience of a philosopher and all a monk's cunning, told his pupil that
he ought to profit by the depression of spirit the king's death had
produced in Joan, and ought not to suffer her favourites to use this time
in influencing her by their seductive counsels.

But Joan's ability to receive consolation was quite as ready as her g