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."