e church without the summons of the King, and so
hold them there to hunger and thirst and belike die, so long as it
pleased him so to hold them? As he hugged the fancy, chuckling over
attendant thoughts, a little bell sounded, clear and sweet as the voice
of a child, calling from the belfry of the church. It was vesper-time,
and the servants of the church were fulfilling their service for the
largest congregation their temple had known since its foundation. Robert
frowned at the sound. How did the shavelings dare not to wait for his
presence? He struck his hands angrily together. In the chime of the
bell he seemed to hear the voice of Perpetua crying out against the
words that had ruined the beautiful world. In the golden evening light
he seemed to see the face of Perpetua gazing with scornful eyes upon her
enemy. He closed his hands as if he were crushing her body and soul in
his grasp.

"I did not think the woman lived who could so wound me," he cried,
aloud. "If she fawned at my feet now, I would spurn her. To deny me--me,
the greatest prince in the world! There is not another woman in the
world who would say me nay."

From the little church came the swell of solemn music, mingled with
clear, human voices, the voices of the holy ones within chanting the
"Magnificat." The noble Roman words came flowing through the still air,
grand and simple, to the ears of the King. But their grandeur, their
simplicity, carried no calm to his writhing spirit.

"Magnificat anima mea Dominum: et exultavit spiritus meus in Deo
salutari meo."

Robert frowned as he listened. He remembered enough of his boyhood's
Latin to interpret their message, and he muttered it sourly to himself
in the vulgar tongue of Sicily.

"My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my
Saviour."

The reverential words chafed his disordered temper. He wove their fine
gold into the dark web of his tempestuous passions. "Why do these monks
plague me with their croakings?" he cried. "I need no help from Heaven
to strengthen me against this buffet."

Renewed rage at his denial set him devising new pangs for her who had
denied him, heedless of the chanting from the church; but soon again he
found himself listening, as if against his will, to the sonorous words.

"Fecit potentiam in brachio suo: dispersit superbos mente cordis sui."

"What are the fools crooning?" cried the exasperated King. "He hath
showed strength with his arm; he hath