“To hang you with, my lord,” replied the queen, with a smile.

Andre shrugged his shoulders, seeing in the threat so incredibly rash nothing more than a pleasantry in rather bad taste.  But when he saw that Joan resumed her work, he tried to renew the conversation.

“I admit,” he said, in a perfectly calm voice, “that my question is quite unnecessary:  from your eagerness to finish this handsome piece of work, I ought to suspect that it is destined for some fine knight of yours whom you propose to send on a dangerous enterprise wearing your colours.  If so, my fair queen, I claim to receive my orders from your lips:  appoint the time and place for the trial, and I am sure beforehand of carrying off a prize that I shall dispute with all your adorers.”

“That is not so certain,” said Joan, “if you are as valiant in war as in love.”  And she cast on her husband a look at once seductive and scornful, beneath which the young man blushed up to his eyes.

“I hope,” said Andre, repressing his feelings, “I hope soon to give you such proofs of my affection that you will never doubt it again.”

“And what makes you fancy that, my lord?”

“I would tell you, if you would listen seriously.”

“I am listening.”

“Well, it is a dream I had last night that gives me such confidence in the future.”

“A dream!  You surely ought to explain that.”

“I dreamed that there was a grand fete in the town:  an immense crowd filled the streets like an overflowing torrent, and the heavens were ringing with their shouts of joy; the gloomy granite facades were hidden by hangings of silk and festoons of flowers; the churches were decorated as though for some grand ceremony.  I was riding side by side with you.”  Joan made a haughty movement:  “Forgive me, madam, it was only a dream:  I was on your right, riding a fine white horse, magnificently caparisoned, and the chief-justice of the kingdom carried before me a flag unfolded in sign of honour.  After riding in triumph through the main thoroughfares of the city, we arrived, to the sound of trumpets and clarions, at the royal church of Saint Clara, where your grandfather and my uncle are buried, and there, before the high altar, the pope’s ambassador laid your hand in mine and pronounced a long discourse, and then on our two heads in turn placed the crown of Jerusalem and Sicily; after which the nobles and the people shouted in one voice, ’Long live the King and Queen of Naples!’ And I, wishing to perpetuate the memory of so glorious a day, proceeded to create knights among the most zealous in our court.”

“And do you not remember the names of the chosen persons whom you judged worthy of your royal favours?”

“Assuredly, madam:  Bertrand, Count of Artois.”

“Enough, my lord; I excuse you from naming the rest:  I always supposed you were loyal and generous, but you give me fresh proof of it by showing favour to men whom I most honour and trust.  I cannot tell if your wishes are likely soon to be realised, but in any case feel sure of my perpetual gratitude.”