The duke sprang angrily to his feet; his face was like a thunder-cloud.

He looked toward the ladies' gallery, and stood for a moment like the incarnation of wrath.

A puzzled expression followed the glare of anger; and within a moment he laughed, and waved his hands to the heralds, directing them to cry the rising.

The audience was dismissed, and the courtiers left the hall, laughing in imitation of their lord and master.
Nothing could be more indicative of cruelty than the laughter that followed the passionate protest of the unhappy princess.

To the duke, and of course to his courtiers, the girl's suffering and the fate that was in store for her were mere matters of mirth.