“I will conquer your mad maidenhood, I promise you, and when you sleep in silk and shine in splendor you will thank me devoutly. Already your cheek flushes gratitude.”
The girl’s cheeks were flushed, but her eyes were unchanged in defiance as she answered:
“Your words sting me like blows, and my face flames at them. But you are not so wise as you think, if you hope to tempt me or terrify me.”
Lycabetta watched her, catlike.
“Torture may change your mind, as shame shall change your body.”
Perpetua crossed herself again.
“Nothing that you can do to me will change my soul. That I will carry with me pure to heaven.”
“You may long for death ere I have done with you,” Lycabetta whispered, sourly. She would have said more, but her speech was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Lysidice through the curtained portal. Lycabetta questioned her, frowning.
“Why do you come here?”
Lysidice answered, hurriedly: