s confusion of tongues,
customs, and costumes, an inextricable mixture of splendour and rags,
riches and misery, debasement and grandeur. The austere poets of the
Middle Ages stigmatised the accursed city in their writings under the
name of the New Babylon.

There is one curious monument of Joan's sojourn at Avignon and the
exercise of her authority as sovereign. She was indignant at the
effrontery of the women of the town, who elbowed everybody shamelessly in
the streets, and published a notable edict, the first of its kind, which
has since served as a model in like cases, to compel all unfortunate
women who trafficked in their honour to live shut up together in a house,
that was bound to be open every day in the year except the last three
days of Holy Week, the entrance to be barred to Jews at all times. An
abbess, chosen once a year, had the supreme control over this strange
convent. Rules were established for the maintenance of order, and severe
penalties inflicted for any infringement of discipline. The lawyers of
the period gained a great reputation by this salutary institution; the
fair ladies of Avignon were eager in their defence of the queen in spite
of the calumnious reports that strove to tarnish her reputation: with one
voice the wisdom of Andre's widow was extolled. The concert of praises
was disturbed, however, by murmurs from the recluses themselves, who, in
their own brutal language, declared that Joan of Naples was impeding
their commerce so as to get a monopoly for herself.

Meanwhile Marie of Durazzo had joined her sister. After her husband's
death she had found means to take refuge in the convent of Santa Croce
with her two little daughters; and while Louis of Hungary was busy
burning his victims, the unhappy Marie had contrived to make her escape
in the frock of an old monk, and as by a miracle to get on board a ship
that was setting sail for Provence. She related to her sister the
frightful details of the king's cruelty. And soon a new proof of his
implacable hatred confirmed the tales of the poor princess.

Louis's ambassadors appeared at the court of Avignon to demand formally
the queen's condemnation.

It was a great day when Joan of Naples pleaded her own cause before the
pope, in the presence of all the cardinals then at Avignon, all the
ambassadors of foreign powers, and all the eminent persons come from
every quarter of Europe to be present at this trial, unique in the annals
o