succumbed　to　an　acute　fever　on　the　5th　of　June　1362；　at　the　age　of　forty…two。　　His　body　had　not　been　laid　in　its　royal　tomb　at　Saint　Domenico　before　several　aspirants　appeared　to　the　hand　of　the　queen。
  One　was　the　Prince　of　Majorca；　the　handsome　youth　we　have　already　spoken　of：　he　bore　her　off　triumphant　over　all　rivals；　including　the　son　of　the　King　of　France。　　James　of　Aragon　had　one　of　those　faces　of　melancholy　sweetness　which　no　woman　can　resist。　　Great　troubles　nobly　borne　had　thrown　as　it　were　a　funereal　veil　over　his　youthful　days：　more　than　thirteen　years　he　had　spent　shut　in　an　iron　cage；　when　by　the　aid　of　a　false　key　he　had　escaped　from　his　dreadful　prison；　he　wandered　from　one　court　to　another　seeking　aid；　it　is　even　said　that　he　was　reduced　to　the　lowest　degree　of　poverty　and　forced　to　beg　his　bread。　　The　young　stranger's　beauty　and　his　adventures　combined　had　impressed　both　Joan　and　Marie　at　the　court　of　Avignon。　　Marie　especially　had　conceived　a　violent　passion　for　him；　all　the　more　so　for　the　efforts　she　made　to　conceal　it　in　her　own　bosom。　　Ever　since　James　of　Aragon　came　to　Naples；　the　unhappy　princess；　married　with　a　dagger　at　her　throat；　had　desired　to　purchase　her　liberty　at　the　expense　of　crime。　　Followed　by　four　armed　men；　she　entered　the　prison　where　Robert　des　Baux　was　still　suffering　for　a　fault　more　his　father's　than　his　own。　　Marie　stood　before　the　prisoner；　her　arms　crossed；　her　cheeks　livid；　her　lips　trembling。　　It　was　a　terrible　interview。　　This　time　it　was　she　who　threatened；　the　man　who　entreated　pardon。　　Marie　was　deaf　to　his　prayers；　and　the　head　of　the　luckless　man　fell　bleeding　at　her　feet；　and　her　men　threw　the　body　into　the　sea。　　But　God　never　allows　a　murder　to　go　unpunished：　James　preferred　the　queen　to　her　sister；　and　the　widow　of　Charles　of　Durazzo　gained　nothing　by　her　crime　but　the　contempt　of　the　man　she　loved；　and　a　bitter　remorse　which　brought　her　while　yet　young　to　the　tomb。
  Joan　was　married　in　turn　to　James　of　Aragon；　son　of　the　King　of　Majorca；　and　to　Otho　of　Brunswick；　of　the　imperial　family　of　Saxony。　We　will　pass　rapidly　over　these　years；　and　come　to　the　denouement　of　this　history　of　crime　and　expiation。　　James；　parted　from　his　wife；　continued　his　stormy　career；　after　a　long　contest　in　Spain　with　Peter　the　Cruel；　who　had　usurped　his　kingdom：　about　the　end　of　the　year　1375　he　died　near　Navarre。　　Otho　also　could　not　escape　the　Divine　vengeance　which　hung　over　the　court　of　Naples；　but　to　the　end　he　valiantly　shared　the　queen's　fortunes。　　Joan；　since　she　had　no　lawful　heir；　adopted　her　nephew；　Charles　de　la　Paix　（so　called　after　the　peace　of　Trevisa）。　　He　was　the　son　of　Louis　Duras；　who　after　rebelling　against　Louis　of　Tarentum；　had　died　miserably　in　the　castle　of　Ovo。　　The　child　would　have　shared　his　father's　fate　had　not　Joan　interceded　to　spare　his　life；　loaded　him　with　kindness；　and　married　him　to　Margaret；　the　daughter　of　her　sister　Marie　and　her　cousin　Charles；　who　was　put　to；　death　by　the　King　of　Hungary。
  Serious　differences　arose　between　the　queen　and　one　of　her　former　subjects；　Bartolommeo　Prigiani；　who　had　become　pope　under　the　name　of　Urban　VI。　　Annoyed　by　the　queen's　opposition；　the　pope　one　day　angrily　said　he　would　shut　her　up　in　a　convent。　　Joan；　to　avenge　the　insult；　openly　favoured　Clement　VII；　the　anti…pope；　and　offered　him　a　home　in　her　own　castle；　when；　pursued　by　Pope　Urban's　army；　he　had　taken　refuge　at　Fondi。　　But　the　people　rebelled　against　Clement；　and　killed　the　Archbishop　of　Naples；　who　had　helped　to　elect　him：　they　broke　the　cross　that　was　carried　in　procession　before　the　anti…pope；　and　hardly　allowed　him　time　to　make　his　escape　on　shipboard　to　Provence。　　Urban　declared　that　Joan　was　now　dethroned；　and　released　her　subjects　from　their　oath　of　fidelity　to　her；　bestowing　the　crown　of　Sicily　and　Jerusalem　upon　Charles　de　la　Paix；　who　marched　on　Naples　with　8000　Hungarians。　　Joan；　who　could　not　believe　in　such　base　ingratitude；　sent　out　his　wife　Margaret　to　meet　her　adopted　son；　though　she　might　have　kept　her　as　a　hostage；　and　his　two　children；　Ladislaus　and　Joan；　who　became　later　the　second　queen　of　that　name。　But　the　victorious　army　soon　arrived　at　the　gates　of　Naples；　and　Charles　blockaded　the　queen　in　her　castle；　forgetting　in　his　ingratitude　that　she　had　saved　his　life　and　loved　him　like　a　mother。
  Joan　during　the　siege　endured　all　the　worst　fatigues　of　war　that　any　soldier　has　to　bear。　　She　saw　her　faithful　friends　fall　around　her　wasted　by　hunger　or　decimated　by　sickness。　　When　all　food　was　exhausted；　dead　and　decomposed　bodies　were　thrown　into　the　castle　that　they　might　pollute　the　air　she　breathed。　　Otho　with　his　troops　was　kept　at　Aversa；　Louis　of　Anjou；　the　brother　of　the　King　of　France　whom　she　had　named　as　her　successor　when　she　disinherited　her　nephew；　never　appeared　to　help　her；　and　the　Provenqal　ships　from　Clement　VII　were　not　due　to　arrive　until　all　hope　must　be　over。　　Joan　asked　for　a　truce　of　five　days；　promising　that；　if　Otho　had　not　come　to　relieve　her　in　that　time；　she　would　surrender　the　fortress。
  On　the　fifth　day　Otho's　army　appeared　on　the　side　of　Piedigrotta。　The　fight　was　sharp　on　both　sides；　and　Joan　from　the　top　of　a　tower　could　follow　with　her　eyes　the　cloud　of　dust　raised　by　her　husband's　horse　in　the　thickest　of　the　battle。　　The　victory　was　long　uncertain：　at　length　the　prince　made　so　bold　an　onset　upon　the　royal　standard；　in　his；　eagerness　to　meet　his　enemy　hand　to　hand；　that　he　plunged　into　the　very　middle　of　the　army；　and　found　himself　pressed　on　every　side。　　Covered　with　blood　and　sweat；　his　sword　broken　in　his　hand；　he　was　forced　to　surrender。　　An　hour　later　Charles　was　writing　to　his　uncle；　the　King　of　Hungary；　that　Joan　had　fallen　into　his　power；　and　he　only　awaited　His　Majesty's　orders　to　decide　her　fate。
  It　was　a　fine　May　morning：　the　queen　was　under　guard　in　the　castle　of　Aversa：　Otho　had　obtained　his　liberty　on　condition　of　his　quitting　Naples；　and　Louis　of　Anjou　had　at　last　got　together　an　army　of　50；000　men　and　was　marching　in　hot　haste　to　the　conquest　of　the　kingdom。　None　of　this　news　had　reached　the　ears　of　Joan；　who　for　some　days　had　lived　in　complete　isolation。　　The　spring　lavished　all　her　glory　on　these　enchanted　plains；　which　have　earned　the　name　of　the　blessed　and　happy　country；　campagna　felite。　　The　orange　trees　were　covered　with　sweet　white　blossoms；　the　cherries　laden　with　ruby　fruit；　the　olives　with　young　emerald　leaves；　the　pomegranate　feathery　with　red　bells；　the　wild　mulberry；　the　evergreen　laurel；　all　the　strong　budding　vegetation；　needing　no　help　from　man　to　flourish　in　this　spot　privileged　by　Nature；　made　one　great　garden；　here　and　there　interrupted　by　little　hidden　runlets。　　It　was　a　forgotten　Eden　in　this　corner　of　the　world。　　Joan　at　her　window　was　breathing　in　the　perfumes　of　spring；　and　her　eyes　misty　with　tears　rested　on　a　bed　of　flowery　verdure　a　light　breeze；　keen　and　balmy；　blew　upon　her　burning　brow　and　offered　a　grateful　coolness　to　her　damp　and　fevered　cheeks。　Distant　melodious　voices；　refrains　of　well…known　songs；　were　all　that　disturbed　the　silence　of　the　poor　little　room；　the　solitary　nest　where　a　life　was　passing　away　in　tears　and　repentance；　a　life　the　most　brilliant　and　eventful　of　a　century　of　splendour　and　unrest。
  The　queen　was　slowly　reviewing　in　her　mind　all　her　life　since　she　ceased　to　be　a　childfifty　years　of　disillusionment　and　suffering。　She　thought　first　of　her　happy；　peaceful　childhood；　her　grandfather's　blind　affection；　the　pure　joys　of　her　days　of　innocence；　the　exciting　games　with　her　little　sister　and　tall　cousins。　　Then　she　shuddered　at　the　earliest　thought　of　marriage；　the　constraint；　the　loss　of　liberty；　the　bitter　regrets；　she　remembered　with　horror　the　deceitful　words　murmured　in　her　ear；　designed　to　sow　the　seeds　of　corruption　and　vice　that　were　to　poison　her　whole　life。　　Then　came　the　burning　memories　of　her　first　love；　the　treachery　and　desertion　of　Robert　of　Cabane；　the　moments　of　madness　passed　like　a　dream　in　the　arms　of　Bertrand　of　Artoisthe　whole　drama　up　to　its　tragic　denouement　showed　as　in　letters　of　fire　on　the　dark　background　of　her　sombre　thoughts。　　Then　arose　cries　of　anguish　in　her　soul；　even　as　on　that　terrible　fatal　night　she　heard　the　voice　of　Andre　asking　mercy　from　his　murderers。　　A　long　deadly　silence　followed　his　awful　struggle；　and　the　queen　saw　before　her　eyes　the　carts　of　infamy　and　the　torture　of　her　accomplices。　　All　the　rest　of　this　vision　was　persecution；　flight；　exile；　remorse；　punishments　from　God　and　curses　from　the　world。　　Around　her　was　a　frightful　solitude：　husbands；　lovers；　kindred；　friends；　all　were　dead；　all　she　had　loved　or　hated　in　the　world　were　now　no　more；　her　joy；　pain；　desire；　and　hope　had　vanished　for　ever。　　The　poor　queen；　unable　to　free　herself　from　these　visions　of　woe；　violently　tore　herself　away　from　the　awful　reverie；　and　kneeling　at　a　prie…dieu；　prayed　with　fervour。　　She　was　still　beautiful；　in　spite　of　her　extreme　pallor；　the　noble　lines　of　her　face　kept　their　pure　oval；　the　fire　of　repentance　in　her　great　black　eyes　lit　them　up　with　superhuman　brilliance；　and　the　hope　of　pardon　played　in　a　heavenly　smile　upon　her　lips。
  Suddenly　the　door　of　the　room　where　Joan　was　so　earnestly　praying　opened