could yet discern in Robert's heiress a will firm and resolute to brave
every obstacle, and the dark rings that circled her fine eyes plainly
showed that her heart was already agitated by passions beyond her years.

Beside Joan stood her younger sister, Marie, who was twelve or thirteen
years of age, the second daughter of Charles, Duke of Calabria, who had
died before her birth, and whose mother, Marie of Valois, had unhappily
been lost to her from her cradle. Exceedingly pretty and shy, she seemed
distressed by such an assembly of great personages, and quietly drew
near to the widow of the grand seneschal, Philippa, surnamed the
Catanese, the princesses' governess, whom they honoured as a mother.
Behind the princesses and beside this lady stood her son, Robert of
Cabane, a handsome young man, proud and upright, who with his left hand
played with his slight moustache while he secretly cast on Joan a glance
of audacious boldness. The group was completed by Dona Cancha, the
young chamberwoman to the princesses, and by the Count of Terlizzi,
who exchanged with her many a furtive look and many an open smile. The
second group was composed of Andre, Joan's husband, and Friar Robert,
tutor to the young prince, who had come with him from Budapesth, and
never left him for a minute. Andre was at this time perhaps eighteen
years old: at first sight one was struck by the extreme regularity of
his features, his handsome, noble face, and abundant fair hair;
but among all these Italian faces, with their vivid animation, his
countenance lacked expression, his eyes seemed dull, and something hard
and icy in his looks revealed his wild character and foreign extraction.
His tutor's portrait Petrarch has drawn for us: crimson face, hair and
beard red, figure short and crooked; proud in poverty, rich and miserly;
like a second Diogenes, with hideous and deformed limbs barely concealed
beneath his friar's frock.