stened to the Duke of
Durazzo with the liveliest interest and the kindliest attention. He then
hazarded allusions to the dangers that beset a young queen, spoke vaguely
of the difficulty in distinguishing between true devotion and cowardly
complaisance or interested attachment; he spoke of the ingratitude of
many who had been loaded with benefits, and had been most completely
trusted. Joan, who had just learned the truth of his words by sad
experience, replied with a sigh, and after a moment's silence added--

"May God, whom I call to witness for the loyalty and uprightness of my
intentions, may God unmask all traitors and show me my true friends! I
know that the burden laid upon me is heavy, and I presume not on my
strength, but I trust that the tried experience of those counsellors to
whom my uncle entrusted me, the support of my family, and your warm and
sincere friendship above all, my dear cousin, will help me to accomplish
my duty."

"My sincerest prayer is that you may succeed, my fair cousin, and I will
not darken with doubts and fears a time that ought to be given up to joy;
I will not mingle with the shouts of gladness that rise on all sides to
proclaim you queen, any vain regrets over that blind fortune which has
placed beside the woman whom we all alike adore, whose single glance
would make a man more blest than the angels, a foreigner unworthy of your
love and unworthy of your throne."

"You forget, Charles," said the queen, putting out her hand as though to
check his words, "Andre is my husband, and it was my grandfather's will
that he should reign with me."

"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 indiff