rt; 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 flowery crown. A warm, balmy breeze
that had passed over the orange trees of Sorrento and Amalfi felt
deliciously refreshing to the inhabitants of the capital, who had
succumbed to torpor in the enervating softness of the day. The whole
town was waking from a long siesta, breathing freely after a sleepy
interval; the Molo was covered with a crowd of eager people dressed out
in the brightest colours; the many cries of a festival, joyous songs,
love ditties sounded from all quarters of the vast amphitheatre, which is
one of the chief marvels of creation; they came to the ears of Joan, and
she listened as she bent over her work, absorbed in deep thought.
Suddenly, when she seemed most busily occupied, the indefinable feeling
of someone near at hand, and the touc