the vigor of the Norman had
shared in the decoration of those walls, gorgeous with gold and color,
hung with sumptuous tapestries woven with alluring figures from the
legends of love. The floor, inlaid with iridescent tiles that Persian
hands had painted, was strewn with costly stuffs and furs. Before a
life-size statue in bronze of Venus, a copy of that Venus Callipyge
given by Heliogabalus to Syracuse, a fire of shifting, many-tinted
flames burned on a metal tripod, whose stems represented the figures of
beautiful, nude women. The air was heavily scented from the burning
woods and spices in the brazier, sandal and cinnamon and cassia. Hanging
lamps, of strangely fantastic design, filled the wide room with delicate
light.

Lycabetta, the triumphant jewel of all this gorgeous setting, reclined
upon a golden couch that was made soft for her body with rare furs, and
bright--to enhance her whiteness--with brilliant silks. Clad in thin,
transparent webs, whose shifting shimmer recalled, whenever she stirred
her limbs, the glitter of the serpent, Lycabetta lay with a look of
weariness on her face, while Hypsipyle fanned her softly with a huge
feather fan of black and white ostrich plumes. Glycerium, seated by the
head of the couch, was busy in adorning her mistress's black hair with
flowers. At her feet Euphrosyne nursed a kind of lute and sang the Venus
song in a small, sweet voice:

"Venus whispered from her nest:
'White Adonis, bright Adonis!
Love is better than the best,
Heaven is hidden in my breast,
Take delight and leave the rest,
Blithe Adonis, lithe Adonis!'

"Venus stretched her arms and said:
'Shy Adonis, sly Adonis!
Gather blooms and make a bed
Of the scented petals shed
By the roses, white and red,
Brisk Adonis, frisk Adonis!'

"Venus murmured with a sigh:
'Dumb Adonis, numb Adonis!
Fast the golden moments fly,
Love and let the world go by,
Be a god before you die,
Child Adonis, wild Adonis!'"

Lycabetta yawned and lifted up her hand. Euphrosyne ceased in her
singing.

"There, you have sung enough," Lycabetta said. "I am neither more sleepy
nor more wakeful than I was, and your music wearies me. Have many
knocked at our doors to-night?"

She looked at the girl Glycerium as she spoke, and Glycerium answered
her.

"The young Duke Ferdinand of Etruria."

Lycabetta gave a little laugh of disdain