Oh! what a sad sight it was when the seneschal, now joined by two inferior officers, threw open the door of a chamber at the end of the adjacent corridor, and displayed to the eyes of Charles the faded form of Giovan Galeazzo, the young Duke of Milan, stretched upon a richly-ornamented bed, and covered with a dressing gown of cloth of gold. The corpse of Inez de Castro seemed only the more ghastly from the regal garments which decked her mouldering frame; and the splendour of the apartment, the decoration of the bed, and the glistening bedgown only gave additional wanness to the face of the unhappy Duke of Milan. Once pre-eminently handsome, and with features finely chiselled still, tall and perfectly formed, not yet twenty years of age, he lay there a living skeleton. His cheek was pale as ashes; his brow of marble whiteness; the thin but curling locks of jet black hair falling wildly round his forehead; his lips hardly tinted with red; and a preternatural light in his dark eyes, which gave more terrible effect to the deathly pallor of his countenance. A sweet, a wonderfully sweet smile played round his mouth when he saw the young King of France; and he raised himself feebly on his elbow to greet him as he approached. "Welcome, my most noble lord, the king," he said in a weak voice; "this is indeed most kind of your majesty to visit your poor cousin, whom duty would have called to your feet long ago, had not sore sickness kept him prisoner. But, alas! from this bed I cannot move--never shall again, I fear." Charles seated himself by the unhappy young man's side, and kindly took his hand. They were first cousins; their age was nearly the same, and well might the young monarch's bosom thrill with compassion and sympathy for the unhappy duke. "I grieve," said the king, "to see you so very ill, fair cousin; but I trust you will be better soon, the heats of summer have probably exhausted you, and----" Giovan Galeazzo shook his head almost impatiently, and turned a meaning look upon his uncle. "Has this continued long?" asked the king. "It began with my entrance into this accursed fortress," replied the youth, "now some two years ago. It has been slow, but very, very certain. Day by day, hour by hour, it has preyed upon me, till there is not a sound part left." "He fancies that the air disagrees with him," said Ludovic the Moor, "but the physicians say it is not so; and we have had so many tumults and insurrections in the land, that, for his own safety, it is needful he should make his residence in some strong place." "For my safety!" murmured the unhappy duke; "for my destruction. Tumults, ay, tumults--would I could strike the instigator of them! 'Tis not alone the air, good uncle; 'tis the water also. 'Tis everything I eat and drink in this hateful place." "The caprice of sickness, believe me, nephew," answered Ludovic, bending his heavy brows upon him. "You are too ill to have appetite."