opening the doors of the hall, departed as though nothing had happened.

Isolda, when at last she contrived to get a light, rapidly ran to the
queen's chamber, and finding the door shut on the inside, began to call
loudly on her Andre. There was no answer, though the queen was in the
room. The poor nurse, distracted, trembling, desperate, ran down all
the corridors, knocked at all the cells and woke the monks one by one,
begging them to help her look for the prince. The monks said that they
had indeed heard a noise, but thinking it was a quarrel between soldiers
drunken perhaps or mutinous, they had not thought it their business
to interfere. Isolda eagerly, entreated: the alarm spread through the
convent; the monks followed the nurse, who went on before with a torch.
She entered the garden, saw something white upon the grass, advanced
trembling, gave one piercing cry, and fell backward.

The wretched Andre was lying in his blood, a cord round his neck as
though he were a thief, his head crushed in by the height from which he
fell. Then two monks went upstairs to the queen's room, and respectfully
knocking at the door, asked in sepulchral tones--

"Madam, what would you have us do with your husband's corpse?"

And when the queen made no answer, they went down again slowly to the
garden, and kneeling one at the head, the other at the foot of the dead
man, they began to recite penitential psalms in a low voice. When they
had spent an hour in prayer, two other monks went up in the same way
to Joan's chamber, repeating the same question and getting no answer,
whereupon they relieved the first two, and began themselves to pray.
Next a third couple went to the door of this inexorable room, and coming
away perturbed by their want of success, perceived that there was a