The Admiral went to the body of the Prince, who was, by this, laid out reverently on a bier in the small dark hall at the top of the steps, where he had so valiantly met his death for his guest. There he lay, as it were, still on guard, where all who entered the palace must pass him. His sword was at his side, and the old priest of S. Giovanni of the Lepers, the priest who had brought him up from his childhood, and so often repeated to him the prophecy of the Favara, was praying over him. The Admiral made a reverence to him as he entered, and taking the dead man's right hand, held it as if he were taking a vow, with tears splashing down on it. This the priest told us; and as we passed up we saw for ourselves how the hero knelt by the dead hero's body, praying--as all who knew the Admiral would know--for the dead, though it is not permitted of our Church. And the attendants told Will how the aged servant of the Lord laid his hands and his blessing on the heads of both. The Admiral was still kneeling when I passed--kneeling as I saw him kneel on the day of Trafalgar, when the _Victory_ was sailing so grandly into action. My Lady, too, saw him from the door, and reverence forbade her entering the chamber. And presently came to her Will, inquiring for Donna Rusidda. She led him to the porphyry chamber, where, dry-eyed and wild-eyed, Donna Rusidda stood gazing out seawards, and there left him. "Rusidda! Rusidda!" called Will, waiting to see if she would have him advance. She came to him. "You must marry me now, dear one." She turned her clear gaze on him. His face was burning. Then she knew that it could not be her loneliness, her orphaned state, that made him press his suit at such a time, and said, "How could any man wish to marry me?" "Dear, I heard all, and I wish." "Oh, W-Will," she cried, letting herself be taken into his arms, and weeping at last--"how noble you are!" "And you will marry me now?" he said hopefully, after the long silent embrace. "Ah, no," she sobbed, "I cannot. I love you too well." "But, Rusidda, it cannot be true----" "True it is, alas! I can never give my heart to any one but him, and to him I have given it and shall give it. I shall be his slave, to do what he lists. He _shall_ take me with him," she cried, with passionate earnestness. And then pitifulness smote her, for she knew well how Will loved her, and what it was to love with such a love. And she held her peace, for she could give Will no hope. And so presently she passed into her own chamber. CHAPTER XXV.--How the Admiral took Naples, and of the Hanging of Caracciolo.