“Alas! poor soul, they will not obey you,” Perpetua said, sadly.
Robert fell from his high estate in a second. “Oh, God, I had forgotten,” he groaned. He clasped his hands; his lips murmured a prayer for strength to bear his cross, for strength to serve this woman. For the second time in his sinful life he was thinking of another than himself, and that other was Perpetua. He turned to her with what he meant to be a smile. “Then we are weak things, you and I, a fool and a woman, and we must fight force with craft. Do you trust me?”
“I trust you,” Perpetua said, simply.
Robert came close to her and whispered in her ear. “Seem to consent to this cruel jest of theirs. I will say I have cast a spell upon you, and that you can refuse me nothing. When I command you to follow me, say that you obey. Once you are outside these gates, you will be safe. Do you understand?”
Perpetua looked at him with shining eyes. “I understand that I have found a friend.”
The words seemed to burn Robert’s heart with purifying fire. “A slave who will serve you faithfully,” he whispered. “Hush, some one is coming.”