on to a sort of melancholy that was coming over him, he bade her
tell him old tales of his childhood, and had a long talk about his
brother Louis, his absent mother, and tears were in his eyes when he
recalled her last farewell. Isolda listened joyfully, and answered all
he asked; but no fell presentiment shook her heart: the poor woman loved
Andre with all the strength of her soul; for him she would have given up
her life in this world and in the world to come; yet she was not his
mother.

When all was ready, Robert of Cabane came to tell the prince that the
queen awaited him; Andre cast one last look at the smiling fields beneath
the starry heavens, pressed his nurse's hand to his lips and to his
heart, and followed the grand seneschal slowly and, it seemed, with some
regret. But soon the brilliant lights of the room, the wine that
circulated freely, the gay talk, the eager recitals of that day's
exploits served to disperse the cloud of gloom that had for a moment
overspread the countenance of the prince. The queen alone, leaning on
the table with fixed eyes and lips that never moved, sat at this strange
feast pale and cold as a baleful ghost summoned from the tomb to disturb
the joy of the party. Andre, whose brain began to be affected by the
draughts of wine from Capri and Syracuse, was annoyed at his wife's look,
and attributing it to contempt, filled a goblet to the brim and presented
it to the queen. Joan visibly trembled, her lips moved convulsively; but
the conspirators drowned in their noisy talk the involuntary groan that
escaped her. In the midst of a general uproar, Robert of Cabane proposed
that they should serve generous supplies of the same wine drunk at the
royal table to the Hungarian guards who were keeping watch at the
approaches to the convent, and this liberality evoked frenzied applause.
The shouting of the soldiers soon gave witness to their gratitude for the
unexpected gift, and mingled with the hilarious toasts of the banqueters.
To put the finishing touch to Andre's excitement, there were cries on
every side of "Long live the Queen! Long live His Majesty the King of
Naples!"

The orgy lasted far into the night: the pleasures of the next day were
discussed with enthusiasm, and Bertrand of Artois protested in a loud
voice that if they were so late now some would not rise early on the
morrow. Andre declared that, for his part, an hour or two's rest would
be enough to get over his fatigue