Robert shook his head and
beckoned her, and she glided towards him, while her women huddled
together at the back of the hall, quivering with mirth at the sport of
fool-baiting.

"No, sweeting," Robert said, gravely. "No. We have shared rose-red
hours; you are made very comely; but there is one here more beautiful
than you--than all the world."

Even from the mouth of a derided fool it is never delightful for
loveliness to be told that it is outshone. Lycabetta's lips tightened a
little as she asked, "Which is she, sire?"

In her heart she promised herself that when the King did come she would
use her interest to gain master fool the grace of a score of stripes.
But Robert, not noticing an irritation which he would not have heeded if
he had seen it, went on in his most royal manner:

"The mountain maid we flung to you. I have somewhat turned my thoughts.
Bring her to me. I think I will make her Queen of Sicily when I have
overthrown my enemies."

Lycabetta found it hard not to laugh in the fool's face for his antic
assumption of the regal carriage, but her mind seemed instantly
illuminated with knowledge. Now she understood the presence of the fool
in her palace. This was Robert's ugliest revenge. He had sent this
hideous thing to prey upon Perpetua, and Lycabetta applauded. What
degradation more cruel could be found for stubborn purity.

"Do, sire," she cried, delightedly, clapping her hands. Robert turned
away from her and walked moodily up and down the room, his vexed brain a
chaos of conflicting purposes. Lycabetta moved towards her women and
beckoned to Hypsipyle, who hastened to her side.

"A brave jest," she said. "The King, whom Heaven preserve for us, his
lovers, has sent this grimacing fool here to plague and shame the girl
whom his Majesty once was pleased to love and now is pleased to hate. It
is a dear revenge and worthy of a great king. The deformed evil thing
will make the girl as evil as himself ere he be done with her. Bid the
others begone and bring the girl here."

Hypsipyle glanced at the twisted figure limping across the hall. "I
would not like her lover," she sneered; then, hurrying to her
companions, she and they vanished through the curtains. Lycabetta turned
to Robert.

"Sire," she said, "I will send your Majesty his mountain maid." Robert
stopped in his shambling walk and stared at her. A thousand wild
thoughts were warring in his burning brain, and the interruption irked
him.

"Ve