"One moment, madam," said Renaud, stopping her: "you are indeed saved,
but upon one condition."

"A condition?" murmured the princess in surprise.

"Listen, madam. The King of Hungary, the avenger of Andre's murderers,
the slayer of your husband, is at the gates of Naples; the people
and soldiers will succumb, as soon as their last gallant effort is
spent--the army of the conqueror is about to spread desolation and
death throughout the city by fire and the sword. This time the Hungarian
butcher will spare no victims: he will kill the mother before her
children's eyes, the children in their mother's arms. The drawbridge of
this castle is up and there are none on guard; every man who can wield a
sword is now at the other end of the town. Woe to you, Marie of Durazzo,
if the King of Hungary shall remember that you preferred his rival to
him!"

"But have you not come here to save me?" cried Marie in a voice of
anguish. "Joan, my sister, did she not command you to take me to her?"

"Your sister is no longer in the position to give orders," replied
Renaud, with a disdainful smile. "She had nothing for me but thanks
because I saved her life, and her husband's too, when he fled like a
coward before the man whom he had dared to challenge to a duel."

Marie looked fixedly at the admiral to assure herself that it was really
he who thus arrogantly talked about his masters. But she was terrified
at his imperturbable expression, and said gently--

"As I owe my life and my children's lives solely to your generosity, I