“Have you no pity for her?” Lysidice asked.
Lycabetta laughed. “Why should I, you green ape? She is our enemy. If there were many such as she in the world we might as well haul down our sign, for we should not have a bed to lie on.”
“’Tis said the Lord Hildebrand is the accuser,” Glycerium observed.
“Yea,” Lycabetta answered, “and sure of victory. I thought he would have visited me last night.”
“He husbands himself for the combat,” Hypsipyle suggested.
Lycabetta tapped her woman in playful anger with her fan.
“You wrong him, minion,” she said. Her eyes suddenly brightened, for she saw Sigurd Olafson making his way towards her through the press. There was a look of constraint in his blue eyes as he greeted her.
“Loveliest lady,” he said, hesitatingly, “I have some unlovely news for you.”
Lycabetta raised her eyebrows in surprise. The salutation was unexpected.