Part 35

"Salutations, sweet lady," he said, gayly, advancing towards her, but his advance was interrupted by Robert, who rushed forward, exclaiming: "Hildebrand! Hildebrand! do you not know me? Do you not know my voice?"

Hildebrand frowned resentfully on the intruder. "Why are you here, fool!" he grumbled. "Your head and your hump are like to part company."

Robert gave a great groan and turned away. His last hope had withered. The spell under which he suffered was too potent for his dearest friend to resist; even the eye of comradeship could not pierce through that fleshly mask; even the ear of affection could not discern a familiar voice. Perpetua stood where she was, full of dread at this untimely interruption. Lycabetta tapped her forehead mockingly as she looked from Diogenes to Hildebrand.

"The crazy zany thinks he is the King," she said.

Hildebrand nodded. "He mimicked the King so pertly yesterday morn that the King doomed him, and fear has so addled his weak wits that he believes himself to be his master."

"Yet he is a cunning rogue," Lycabetta added, "for he has won the heart of the woodchuck."

Hildebrand caught at her words. "I came on that business. Have you obeyed the King?"

"Bravely," Lycabetta replied. "I flung her to this fool for a marriage morsel, knowing him to be as cruel as he is crooked, and, by our Lady of Lesbos, he has bewitched her, and she follows his songs like a lamb to the sacrifice."

At the sound of her words, Robert roused himself from his lethargy. "Ay, ay," he chirped, "you shall see. She will follow where I call. Come, sweetheart, come!"

Again he began to move, and again he was followed by Perpetua. Now, for the first time, Hildebrand caught sight of her and moved forward, captured by her loveliness.

"Is this the King's fancy?" he asked.

Lycabetta answered: "This is the girl the King sent me to tame and shame for him. Could I do it better than by giving her to this limping devil?"

Hildebrand struck his hands loudly together in protest. "Ay, by the gods, much better. She is far too fair for the first sweetness of her youth to be wasted on a clumsy clown. We are ourselves indifferent good at this taming and the rest, and, like a loyal subject, I will gladly serve the King in this." He advanced towards Perpetua, but Robert instantly came between them.

"The girl is mine," he asserted. "You shall not take her from me."

Hildebrand grinned maliciously. "Gently, beast, gently," he purred. "You shall have your turn by-and-by. You must give place to your betters, bowback."

Robert glared at him in hate. "I say you shall not have her!" he repeated.

Lycabetta burst into a fit of laughing. "Have a care, my lord," she warned; "the fool's eyes roll horridly, and his mouth twitches. He will do you hurt if you steal his leman."

"You shall not have her!" Robert insisted, fiercely.

Hildebrand's affability vanished. "Out of the way, monkey!" he ordered; then, catching Robert lightly by the collar, he cast him aside as easily as he might have cast a kitten. Robert staggered and fell on his knees. Unheeding him, Hildebrand went towards Perpetua. "You lithe idol of the heights," he asked, smiling, "would you not choose me for your paramour?"

Perpetua looked steadily at her new danger, and her heart was glad to think of the knife that lay hidden in her bosom. "I will go with the fool," she said.

In the corner where he knelt unnoticed Robert was muttering confused, disjointed prayers to Heaven. The passionate desire to save the girl revived within him, and he implored the Heaven that he had wronged for help.

At Perpetua's speech, Lycabetta clapped her hands derisively. "I said he had bewitched her."

"We will exorcise her," Hildebrand laughed back, and advanced towards the girl. Perpetua drew away a little, regarding Hildebrand with a steadiness that puzzled him, resolved to drive the knife into her heart before he could lay hand on her. To Robert, where he lay huddled, the spinning seconds seemed to be beating against his ears like the booming of great bells, and through their clangor came a babble of brisk voices reproaching him, mocking him. "Now for one hour," they seemed to say, "of that royal power which you have used so ill, and now might use so nobly." Again his agony spurred him to supplicate Heaven to send him some thought that might save her, but no thought came; he was weak, helpless, dishonored, and through the darkness of his soul the voices of his enemies stabbed him like many arrows.

Lycabetta, seeing how Hildebrand paused for a moment in his advance upon Perpetua, stung him with a sneer.

"Lord Hildebrand, for a lover of ladies you are at a loss. She clings to her cripple."

Hildebrand, irritated, made a step forward, and again Perpetua moved a step away. Hildebrand frowned, accustomed to conquest.

"You shun me, child," he protested, "as if I had the plague."

The plague!