path of duty and justice; your maternal love will watch over me from
afar, and cover me like the wings of a guardian angel."

Elizabeth sobbed as she embraced her son, and when she left him she
felt her heart was breaking. At last she made up her mind to go, and
was escorted by the whole court, who had never changed towards her for
a moment in their chivalrous and respectful devotion. The poor mother,
pale, trembling, and faint, leaned heavily upon Andre's arm, lest she
should fall. On the ship that was to take her for ever from her son, she
cast her arms for the last time about his neck, and there hung a
long time, speechless, tearless, and motionless; when the signal for
departure was given, her women took her in their arms half swooning.
Andre stood on the shore with the feeling of death at his heart: his
eyes were fixed upon the sail that carried ever farther from him
the only being he loved in the world. Suddenly he fancied he beheld
something white moving a long way off: his mother had recovered her
senses by a great effort, and had dragged herself up to the bridge to
give a last signal of farewell: the unhappy lady knew too well that she
would never see her son again.

At almost the same moment that Andre's mother left the kingdom, the
former queen of Naples, Robert's widow, Dona Sancha, breathed her last
sigh. She was buried in the convent of Santa Maria delta Croce, under
the name of Clara, which she had assumed on taking her vows as a nun, as
her epitaph tells us, as follows:

"Here lies, an example of great humility, the body of the sainted sister
Clara, of illustrious memory, otherwise Sancha, Queen of Sicily and
Jerusalem, widow of the most serene Robert, King of Jerusalem and
Sicily, who, after the death of the king her husband, when she had