Part 34

"Ay," Perpetua answered.

Lycabetta looked at the girl's grave face in amaze. "This is a wonder," she said; "she seems spellbound."

Robert nodded joyously. "Why, I have cast the glamour upon her, and she will listen to me as the fish listened to St. Anthony. Will you swear to obey me, maiden?"

Again Perpetua answered, "Ay."

"Are you in league with the devil?" Lycabetta asked, astonished at the girl's acquiescence.

Robert grinned impishly. "I will not sell my secret. I suppose you do not care how I conquer the maid, so long as I do conquer her."

"So long as you do what the King wishes," Lycabetta answered, contemptuously.

"I swear I will do what the King wishes," Robert retorted. "She shall be humble enough, she shall be wise enough when I am done with her. You are skilled in mischief; but I still could be your school-master. Did you ever hear of Orpheus and his magic lute?"

"What of it?" Lycabetta asked.

"He could pipe so divinely," Robert related, "that all things must needs follow him, not merely men and women, birds and beasts, but silly stocks and stones; and your phlegmatic stay-at-home tree would needs uproot itself and skip to his jingle. Well, you shall see this intractable virgin follow, lamblike, when I pipe, as I lead the way to my hovel."

"If you can do this, I shall be glad to be rid of her," Lycabetta confessed. "I have better use for my hours than the training of country girls."

Robert came nearer to her, confiding: "I know a spell my master mountebank taught me. A Greek fellow made it, a Roman rogue stole it, an Italian rascal gave a new twist to it; here is the pith of it. Oh, it sounds simple enough, but it will win a matron from her allegiance, a nun from her orisons, a maid from her modesty. See, now, how she will trip to my whistle. Mistress Modesty, Mistress Modesty, follow me home, follow me home, follow me home!"

He took up the lute Euphrosyne had laid down, and moved around the room slowly, playing a quaint little country-side air in a minor key, while he chanted his song, and, as he went, Perpetua moved slowly after him, as if compelled by the spell of the music:

"By the music of the morn, When equipped with spear and shield, Oberon, the elfin-born, Winding on his wizard horn, Calls the fairies to the field-- I conjure thee, maiden, yield!

"By the magic of the moon, When Diana from her dome Wakes from slumber, woos from swoon All the folk who fear the noon, Dwarf and kobold, witch and gnome-- I conjure thee, maiden, come!

"By the beauty, by the bliss Of the ancient gods who ride Eros, Phoebus, Artemis, Aphrodite, side by side, Through the purple eventide, On the cloudy steeds of Dis-- I conjure thee, maiden, kiss."

Lycabetta watched, astounded, the submission with which Perpetua followed the incantation of the fool. "This is the black magic," she said; and then asked Perpetua, "Are you content to follow this fool?"

Perpetua paused in her patient following of the singer, and, looking Lycabetta full in the face, she answered, "Ay."

Lycabetta raised protesting hands. "And to go with him where he will?" she persisted.

Again Perpetua answered, "Ay."

Robert interrupted the colloquy with a sweep of the strings that drifted into a new tune with new words:

"Caper, sweeting, while I play; Love and lover, we will stray Over the hills and far away."

He beckoned to the girl and ambled backward towards the entrance, obediently followed by Perpetua.

As he was about to pass luting through the entrance, Lysidice parted the curtains and entered the room. Robert fell back to give her passage. With a reverence to Lycabetta, she said:

"The Lord Hildebrand waits without."

The news brought very different thoughts to the three hearers. Lycabetta, always willing to welcome the King's favorite, gave order gladly enough to admit him. In Robert's mind the name rekindled hopes that had died away. His heart's friend, his brother in arms, the companion of his vices, the flatterer of his follies, he surely would not be deceived by the fantastic transformation. Flinging aside his lute, he shouted, joyously: "Hildebrand! Surely he will know me."

Perpetua's heart grew cold at this proof of renewed madness, and she caught him by the arm. "Do not abandon me," she entreated.

Robert shook her off in his eagerness to greet Hildebrand. "No, no, have no fear--" he promised, hurriedly, pressing forward towards the entrance. The hangings parted and Hildebrand entered, exquisite, debonair, radiant.