“And the queen?”

“No one would believe you if you ventured to denounce her; but when the Catanese and her son, the Count of Terlizzi and his wife and her most intimate friends, have been accused by you, when they fail to endure the torture, and when they denounce her unanimously—­”

“I see, my lord.  You do not only want my life; you would have my soul too.  Very well; once more I commend to you my children.”

With a deep sigh he walked up to the tribunal.  The chief-justice asked Tommaso Pace the usual questions, and a shudder of horror passed through the assembly when they saw the poor wretch in desperation opening his mouth, which streamed with blood.  But surprise and terror reached their height when Nicholas of Melazzo slowly and firmly gave a list of Andre’s murderers, all except the queen and the princes of the blood, and went on to give all details of the assassination.

Proceedings were at once taken for the arrest of the grand seneschal, Robert of Cabane, and the Counts of Terlizzi and Morcone, who were present and had not ventured to make any movement in self-defence.  An hour later, Philippa, her two daughters, and Dona Cancha joined them in prison, after vainly imploring the queen’s protection.  Charles and Bertrand of Artois, shut up in their fortress of Saint Agatha, bade defiance to justice, and several others, among them the Counts of Meleto and Catanzaro, escaped by flight.

As soon as Master Nicholas said he had nothing further to confess, and that he had spoken the whole truth and nothing but the truth, the chief-justice pronounced sentence amid a profound silence; and without delay Tommaso Pace and the notary were tied to the tails of two horses, dragged through the chief streets of the town, and hanged in the market place.

The other prisoners were thrown into a subterranean vault, to be questioned and put to the torture on the following day.  In the evening, finding themselves in the same dungeon, they reproached one another, each pretending he had been dragged into the crime by someone else.  Then Dona Cancha, whose strange character knew no inconsistencies, even face to face with death and torture, drowned with a great burst of laughter the lamentations of her companions, and joyously exclaimed—­

“Look here, friends, why these bitter recriminations—­this ill-mannered raving?  We have no excuses to make, and we are all equally guilty.  I am the youngest of all, and not the ugliest, by your leave, ladies, but if I am condemned, at least I will die cheerfully.  For I have never denied myself any pleasure I could get in this world, and I can boast that much will be forgiven me, for I have loved much:  of that you, gentlemen, know something.  You, bad old man,” she continued to the Count of Terlizzi, “do you not remember lying by my side in the queen’s ante-chamber?  Come, no blushes before your noble family; confess, my lord, that I am with child by your Excellency; and you know how we managed to make up the story of poor Agnes of Durazzo and her pregnancy—­God rest her soul!  For my part, I never supposed the joke would take such a serious turn all at once.  You know all this and much more; spare your lamentations, for, by my word, they are getting very tiresome:  let us prepare to die joyously, as we have lived.”