their hands. And the young pair, at once mounting two beautiful horses
and followed by their cavaliers and pages, solemnly paraded through the
town, and re-entered their palace to the sound of trumpets and cheering.

When this incredible news was brought to the queen, her first feeling
was joy at the recovery of her sister; and when Bertrand of Artois was
eager to head a band of barons and cavaliers and bent on falling upon
the cortege to punish the traitor, Joan put up her hand to stop him with
a very mournful look.

"Alas!" she said sadly, "it is too late. They are legally married, for
the head of the Church--who is moreover by my grandfather's will the
head of our family--has granted his permission. I only pity my poor
sister; I pity her for becoming so young the prey of a wretched man who
sacrifices her to his own ambition, hoping by this marriage to establish
a claim to the throne. O God! what a strange fate oppresses the royal
house of Anjou! My father's early death in the midst of his triumphs;
my mother's so quickly after; my sister and I, the sole offspring of
Charles I, both before we are women grown fallen into the hands of
cowardly men, who use us but as the stepping-stones of their ambition!"
Joan fell back exhausted on her chair, a burning tear trembling on her
eyelid.

"This is the second time," said Bertrand reproachfully, "that I have
drawn my sword to avenge an insult offered to you, the second time I
return it by your orders to the scabbard. But remember, Joan, the third
time will not find me so docile, and then it will not be Robert of
Cabane or Charles of Durazzo that I shall strike, but him who is the
cause of all your misfortunes."