Soothed by the charm of the prayers he had himself composed,the king was near forgetting the object of the interview he had so solemnly and eagerly demanded and letting himself lapse into a state of vague melancholy,he murmured in a subdued voice,"Yes,yes,you are right;pray for me,for you too are a saint,and I am but a poor sinful man.""Say not so,my lord,"interrupted Dona Sancha;"you are the greatest,wisest,and most just king who has ever sat upon the throne of Naples.""But the throne is usurped,"replied Robert in a voice of gloom;"you know that the kingdom belonged to my elder brother,Charles Martel;and since Charles was on the throne of Hungary,which he inherited from his mother,the kingdom of Naples devolved by right upon his eldest son,Carobert,and not on me,who am the third in rank of the family.And I have suffered myself to be crowned in my nephew's stead,though he was the only lawful-king;I have put the younger branch in the place of the elder,and for thirty-three years I have stifled the reproaches of my conscience.True,I have won battles,made laws,founded churches;but a single word serves to give the lie to all the pompous titles showered upon me by the people's admiration,and this one word rings out clearer in my ears than all the,flattery of courtiers,all the songs of poets,all the orations of the crowd:--I am an usurper!""Be not unjust towards yourself,my lord,and bear in mind that if you did not abdicate in favour of the rightful heir,it was because you wished to save the people from the worst misfortunes.Moreover,"continued the queen,with that air of profound conviction that an unanswerable argument inspires,"you have remained king by the consent and authority of our Holy Father the sovereign pontiff,who disposes of the throne as a fief belonging to the Church.""I have long quieted my scruples thus,"replied the dying man,"and the pope's authority has kept me silent;but whatever security one may pretend to feel in one's lifetime,there yet comes a dreadful solemn hour when all illusions needs must vanish:this hour for me has come,and now I must appear before God,the one unfailing judge.""If His justice cannot fail,is not His mercy infinite?"pursued the queen,with the glow of sacred inspiration."Even if there were good reason for the fear that has shaken your soul,what fault could not be effaced by a repentance so noble?Have you not repaired the wrong you may have done your nephew Carobert,by bringing his younger son Andre to your kingdom and marrying him to Joan,your poor Charles's elder daughter?Will not they inherit your crown?""Alas!"cried Robert,with a deep sigh,"God is punishing me perhaps for thinking too late of this just reparation.O my good and noble Sandra,you touch a chord which vibrates sadly in my heart,and you anticipate the unhappy confidence I was about to make.I feel a gloomy presentiment--and in the hour of death presentiment is prophecy--that the two sons of my nephew,Louis,who has been King of Hungary since his father died,and Andre,whom I desired to make King of Naples,will prove the scourge of my family.Ever since Andre set foot in our castle,a strange fatality has pursued and overturned my projects.I had hoped that if Andre and Joan were brought up together a tender intimacy would arise between the two children;and that the beauty of our skies,our civilisation,and the attractions of our court would end by softening whatever rudeness there might be in the young Hungarian's character;but in spite of my efforts all has tended to cause coldness,and even aversion,between the bridal pair.Joan,scarcely fifteen,is far ahead of her age.Gifted with a brilliant and mobile mind,a noble and lofty character,a lively and glowing fancy,now free and frolicsome as a child,now grave and proud as a queen,trustful and simple as a young girl,passionate and sensitive as a woman,she presents the most striking contrast to Andre,who,after a stay of ten years at our court,is wilder,more gloomy,more intractable than ever.His cold,regular features,impassive countenance,and indifference to every pleasure that his wife appears to love,all this has raised between him and Joan a barrier of indifference,even of antipathy.To the tenderest effusion his reply is no more than a scornful smile or a frown,and he never seems happier than when on a pretext of the chase he can escape from the court.These,then,are the two,man and wife,on whose heads my crown shall rest,who in a short space will find themselves exposed to every passion whose dull growl is now heard below a deceptive calm,but which only awaits the moment when Ibreathe my last,to burst forth upon them."
"O my God,my God!"the queen kept repeating in her grief:her arms fell by her side,like the arms of a statue weeping by a tomb.
"Listen,Dona Sandra.I know that your heart has never clung to earthly vanities,and that you only wait till God has called me to Himself to withdraw to the convent of Santa Maria delta Croce,founded by yourself in the hope that you might there end your days.
Far be it from me to dissuade you from your sacred vocation,when Iam myself descending into the tomb and am conscious of the nothingness of all human greatness.Only grant me one year of widowhood before you pass on to your bridal with the Lord,one year in which you will watch over Joan and her husband,to keep from them all the dangers that threaten.Already the woman who was the seneschal's wife and her son have too much influence over our grand-daughter;be specially careful,and amid the many interests,intrigues,and temptations that will surround the young queen,distrust particularly the affection of Bertrand d'Artois,the beauty of Louis of Tarentum;and the ambition of Charles of Durazzo."The king paused,exhausted by the effort of speaking;then turning on his wife a supplicating glance and extending his thin wasted hand,he added in a scarcely audible voice:
