“I am the King! I am the King!”
Perpetua suffered with him as she would have suffered with some wounded forest beast; even sorrowed more, for if the forest beast were a dumb thing and could not tell its woes, the fool could speak, and his speech was worse than silence. Her compassionate womanhood sent her to his side, and she touched him gently on the shoulder, trying to whisper some words of sympathy, of pity.
But at the touch of her hand, at the sound of her voice, Robert flung the mirror from him, and, springing to his feet, faced the girl with evil in his eyes. Ugly thoughts crowded upon him, wicked impulses pricked his blood. If he was thus deformed, thus degraded, thus stripped of his youth, his beauty, and his power, at least he would not suffer alone; at least he, the outcast, had one at his command. The girl who had denied the King was in the power of the fool.
“Do you sorrow for me,” he cried—“for me, the great King, the fair King? Keep sorrow for yourself; for, if my body be blighted, yours is smooth and soft, and at my mercy.”
He made a snatch at her, but his wild eyes had warned her, and she eluded his grasp. She felt herself indeed helpless, in such a place and at a madman’s mercy, but she prayed and faced him with steadfast eyes. He moved slowly towards her, gloating over his purpose.
“Now you are mine,” he said. “Doomed as I am, degraded as I am, you are mine; you cannot escape me. Cling to your bridegroom, bride.”
Perpetua slowly drew back from him, and there was that in her steady gaze which, in spite of himself, restrained him.
“God, grant me the key to a madman’s pity,” she prayed; then to the fool she pleaded: “Sir, in all hearts Heaven has set some spot of gentleness. I am a woman set about by enemies, helpless but not hopeless. If ever any woman’s face was sacred in your eyes, if ever any woman’s speech was music to your ears, be gentle and befriend me.”
Robert laughed a malign laugh. He seemed to revenge his own ruin in triumphing over the child.
“My heart is a harp in a tree, and it sings to women’s voices,” he said. “But you must whisper me love-words if you think to win me.”