“By the music of the morn, When equipped with spear and shield, Oberon, the elfin-born, Winding on his wizard horn, Calls the fairies to the field— I conjure thee, maiden, yield!
“By the magic of the moon, When Diana from her dome Wakes from slumber, woos from swoon All the folk who fear the noon, Dwarf and kobold, witch and gnome— I conjure thee, maiden, come!
“By the beauty, by the bliss Of the ancient gods who ride Eros, Phœbus, Artemis, Aphrodite, side by side, Through the purple eventide, On the cloudy steeds of Dis— I conjure thee, maiden, kiss.”
Lycabetta watched, astounded, the submission with which Perpetua followed the incantation of the fool. “This is the black magic,” she said; and then asked Perpetua, “Are you content to follow this fool?”
Perpetua paused in her patient following of the singer, and, looking Lycabetta full in the face, she answered, “Ay.”
Lycabetta raised protesting hands. “And to go with him where he will?” she persisted.
Again Perpetua answered, “Ay.”
Robert interrupted the colloquy with a sweep of the strings that drifted into a new tune with new words:
“Caper, sweeting, while I play; Love and lover, we will stray Over the hills and far away.”
He beckoned to the girl and ambled backward towards the entrance, obediently followed by Perpetua.