And guides the ardent lover ’neath the lips
Till he finds no way to escape.”
“No, madam,” at last spoke the young Prince, greatly embarrassed by the Queen’s words and looks, “it shall never be said that I seek the means for impairing your royal prerogative; you shall retain that, I pray, in its entirety so long as Providence sees good to preserve you to your people.” Then he politely withdrew from the chamber and sought his own lodging. Again on the morrow the King and Queen dined together privately. Giovanna was dressed superbly in royal robes and wore priceless jewels, but her manner was strangely marked by languor and vexation. Their conversation was forced and restrained in turn. After the repast they adjourned together to the lovely gardens of the palace, which were brilliantly illuminated and filled with a numerous and festive company. The best musicians, of the capital and the most excellent jongleurs of foreign and native fame forgathered to do honour to the royal guest. Dances and flirtations were the order of the evening, and among the Queen’s maidens was the lovely girl from Sicily, Leonora. Louis saw her immediately, and it was not very long before they were tête-à-tête in a grotto hidden from public gaze.
The royal romance reached a climax when Louis avowed himself the devoted admirer and lover of the girl. He even proposed a clandestine marriage, but Leonora begged him with tears not to press his suit. She revealed to him the real character of her mistress, and warned him that if Giovanna became conversant with the liaison, then she herself would be done to death, and he, Louis, would probably be assassinated. “You may,” she said, “refuse to marry the Queen, but she will never pardon you if you marry anybody else.”
Again, the third day of Louis’s visit to Aversa, the Queen arranged meals and meetings alone with the Prince, whose morals and whose manhood she was striving so consumedly to seduce. The Queen’s eyes had in them not alone the lure of lust, but the flash of passion and the flame of resentment. Louis again excused himself her presence, and, making his way to his tryst with Leonora, heard as he approached the grotto the high-toned voice of Giovanna beating down the frightened protests of his innamorata—they were together in the grotto! The Prince revealed himself, only to meet the scornful invectives of the jealous Queen. She demanded to know the nature of Louis’s relations with her serving-maid, and when she had heard the story she turned upon Leonora like a tiger. Louis stepped before the terrified girl, and bade Giovanna abate her fury and not lay hands upon a woman whom he loved. “Leonora has done more than you, madam,” he exclaimed, “to mount me on the throne of Naples, and you shall not cause me to descend therefrom!”
The Queen, at last realizing the manner of man with whom she had to deal, was intimidated by his boldness, and presently she left the grotto. Leonora still refused Louis’s proposition, and before the day dawned she had taken her flight from Aversa, and was well on her way to Rome, to claim sanctuary. She wrote a farewell letter to her royal lover, which a faithful dependent of her father safely conveyed to Naples. King Louis offered the old man every possible inducement to reveal the hiding-place of his young mistress, but he never broke the seal of secrecy which Leonora placed upon him, and Louis and Leonora never met again.
Louis managed to evade the embraces and the advances of the Queen. He had been espoused to the Princess Margaret of Savoy, and although he used the liberty of a vigorous and a level-headed young manhood under the silver-feathered ægis of Prince Cupid, he was not forgetful of his troth. Having broken the back of the opposition of Alfonso of Aragon, and being confident of the support of Genoa and Milan, he lived in comparative comfort and peace; but he withdrew into Calabria, where he was for a time, at all events, safe from the intrigues of Giovanna. During this interval the young King made repeated visits both to Angers and Chambéry, to greet his devoted mother, revive the sweet memories of his boyhood, and to cultivate the love of his fiancée Margaret, now growing rapidly to womanhood.
The whole of France was once again in a ferment. The English, driving all before them, captured almost all the possessions of the Crown. Charles VII. was a fugitive, and his consort Marie, Louis’s beloved sister, broken-hearted. René, his younger brother, was fighting for his own in Bar and Lorraine. With the chivalry and self-sacrifice which distinguished all the children of Louis II. and Yolande, he placed his sword at the disposal of his brother-in-law, and fell into line with the defenders of his native soil. None of the French King’s allies held themselves more stoutly, nor were anything like so dependable, as was the young King of Sicily and Naples. His royal person and his coroneted helmet were ever foremost in the battle; his bravery was inspiring. When matters seemed to be hopeless and the flame of France’s honour appeared to be extinguished, the miraculous mission of the Maid of Domremy cheered the hearts of all true patriots. She chose René as her preux chevalier, and her place was at the head of the troops under his orders. Louis III. had another post of danger to fill; he and his command were told off to keep watchful eyes upon the movements of the Duke of Burgundy. By his excellent strategy he kept the English apart from their allies, and rendered the co-operation of the Burgundians impossible.
