“What grief do you herald?” she questioned, with an air of unconcern.
Sigurd spoke with evident embarrassment.
“Lady, the King commands that you and all your women return to Naples with the first fair wind.”
For a moment the words shook Lycabetta and her eyes flashed anger. Then instantly she recovered her composure. She knew that it would be useless to appeal against any command of the King, the King who had not visited her now for more than a month.
“Is it so?” she said. “Then be it so. Naples or Sicily, what does it matter so long as there is sun to warm the blood?”
The blue eyes of Sigurd Olafson burned bright with passion.
“I will follow you to Naples,” he said, in a low, eager voice.
Lycabetta’s eyes answered his passion, Lycabetta’s voice replied to his desire.
“You will be very welcome, blue eyes,” she promised. “But to-day at least we may stay and see the show?”