Smarda. My lady—
Vittia. Speak.
Smarda. She!
Vittia. Who? Yolanda? comes?
She's not asleep as you averred to me,
Was not asleep, but comes?... My lord—!
She's not asleep as you averred to me,
Was not asleep, but comes?... My lord—!
Renier. I'll stay,
Stay and confront her.
Stay and confront her.
Vittia. Ignorantly? No.
Renier. I'll question her.
Vittia. Blindly, and peril all?
Renier. I will return. You put me off, and off.
(By the loggia, with Moro, he goes; the slave slips out. Yolanda enters, sadly her gaze on the floor. She walks slowly, but becoming conscious starts, sees Vittia, and turns to withdraw.)
Vittia. Your pardon—
Yolanda. I can serve you?
Vittia. If you seek
The women, they are gone.
The women, they are gone.
Yolanda. I do not seek them.
Vittia. Nor me?
Vittia. I thank you. And you shall,
To-night—if you have love.
To-night—if you have love.
Yolanda. That thread were vain.
Vittia. I say, if you have love.
Yolanda. Of guile?
Vittia. Of her
You hold as mother, and who is Amaury's.
You hold as mother, and who is Amaury's.
Yolanda. Were it so simple, no design had ever
Laired darkly in you, but to my eyes been clear
As shallows under Morpha's crystal wave.
Laired darkly in you, but to my eyes been clear
As shallows under Morpha's crystal wave.
Vittia. Unproven you speak so.
Yolanda. And proven would.
Vittia. If so, then—save her.
Yolanda. Who? What do you—?
Vittia (with irony). Mean?
It is not clear?
It is not clear?
Yolanda. Save her?
Vittia. The surety flies
Out of your cheek and dead upon your heart:
Yet you are innocent—oh innocent?—
O'er what abyss she hangs!
Out of your cheek and dead upon your heart:
Yet you are innocent—oh innocent?—
O'er what abyss she hangs!
Yolanda. O'er no abyss.
Vittia. But to her lord is constant!
Yolanda (desperate). She is constant.
Vittia. And to his bed is true?
Yolanda. True.
Vittia. And this baron
Of Paphos—Camarin—is but her friend,
And deeply yours—as oft you feign to shield her?
Of Paphos—Camarin—is but her friend,
And deeply yours—as oft you feign to shield her?
Yolanda. He is no more.
Vittia. Your heart belies your lips,
Knows better than believing what you say.
Knows better than believing what you say.
Yolanda. Were, were he then ... (struggles) Lord Renier knows it not!
And never must. I have misled his thought
From her to me. The danger thus may pass,
The open shame.
Sir Camarin departed, her release
From the remorse and fettering will seem
Sweet as a vista into fairyland.
For none e'er will betray her.
And never must. I have misled his thought
From her to me. The danger thus may pass,
The open shame.
Sir Camarin departed, her release
From the remorse and fettering will seem
Sweet as a vista into fairyland.
For none e'er will betray her.
Vittia. None?
Yolanda. Your tone...!
(Realising with gradual horror.) The still insinuation! You would do it!
This is the beast then of the labyrinth?
And this your heart is?
(Realising with gradual horror.) The still insinuation! You would do it!
This is the beast then of the labyrinth?
And this your heart is?
Vittia. No, not ever: no.
But now, if you deny me.
But now, if you deny me.
Yolanda. Speak as a woman,
If there is Womanhood in you to speak.
The name of Berengere Lusignan must
Go clean unto the years, fair and unsullied.
Nor must the bloody leap
Of death fall on her from Lord Renier's sword,
A death too ready if he but suspect.
No, she is holy!
And holy are my lips
Remembering that they may call her mother!
All the bright world I breathe because of her,
Laughter and roses, day-song of the sea,
Not bitterness and loneliness and blight!
All the bright world,
Of voices, dear as waking to the dead—
Voices of love and tender earthly hopes—
O, all the beauty I was once forbid!
Yes, yes!—
She lifted me, a lonely convent weed,
A cloister thing unvisited of dew,
Withering and untended and afar
From the remembered ruin of my home,
And here has planted me in happiness.
Then, for her, all I am!
If there is Womanhood in you to speak.
The name of Berengere Lusignan must
Go clean unto the years, fair and unsullied.
Nor must the bloody leap
Of death fall on her from Lord Renier's sword,
A death too ready if he but suspect.
No, she is holy!
And holy are my lips
Remembering that they may call her mother!
All the bright world I breathe because of her,
Laughter and roses, day-song of the sea,
Not bitterness and loneliness and blight!
All the bright world,
Of voices, dear as waking to the dead—
Voices of love and tender earthly hopes—
O, all the beauty I was once forbid!
Yes, yes!—
She lifted me, a lonely convent weed,
A cloister thing unvisited of dew,
Withering and untended and afar
From the remembered ruin of my home,
And here has planted me in happiness.
Then, for her, all I am!
Vittia. Or—hope to be?
Yolanda. The price, say, of your silence.—I am weary.
Vittia. And would be rid of me.
Yolanda. The price, the price.
Vittia. It is (low and ashamed) that you renounce Amaury's love.
(A pause.)
Yolanda. Amaury's love.... You then would rend me there
Where not Eternity could heal the wound
Though all the River of God might be for balm!
Cruelty like to this you could not do?
Where not Eternity could heal the wound
Though all the River of God might be for balm!
Cruelty like to this you could not do?
(Waits a moment.)
A swallow on the battlements to-day
Fell from the hawk: you soothed and set it free.
This, then, you would not—!
Fell from the hawk: you soothed and set it free.
This, then, you would not—!
Vittia. Yes.
Yolanda. You cannot!
Vittia. Yes.
Yolanda (wrung for a moment then calm).
I had forgotten, you are of Venice—Venice
Whose burdening is vast upon this land.
Good-night.
I had forgotten, you are of Venice—Venice
Whose burdening is vast upon this land.
Good-night.
Vittia. And you despise me!
Yolanda. More am sick
That love of him has led your thought so low.
To-morrow—
That love of him has led your thought so low.
To-morrow—
Vittia. Not to-morrow! But you must
Choose and at once.
Choose and at once.
Yolanda. Then——
(They start and listen. Approaching hoofs are heard.)
Vittia. Ah! Amaury?—It is?
His speed upon the road? now at the gates?
His speed upon the road? now at the gates?
(The fall of chains is heard.)
What then, what is your purpose—to renounce
And force him from you, or to have me breathe
To Renier Lusignan the one word
That will transmute his wrong to madness?
Say quickly. Centuries have stained these walls,
But never a wife; never——
And force him from you, or to have me breathe
To Renier Lusignan the one word
That will transmute his wrong to madness?
Say quickly. Centuries have stained these walls,
But never a wife; never——
(Enter Berengere.)
Yolanda. Mother?...
(Looks from one to the other.)
Yolanda. He comes here, mother?
Berengere. At once.
Yolanda. No!
Vittia (coldly, to Yolanda). Then to-night
Must be the end.
Must be the end.
Yolanda. Go, go.
Berengere (as Vittia passes out). What thing is this?
Yolanda. Mother, I cannot have him—here—Amaury!
Defer him but a little—till to-morrow.
I cannot see him now.
Defer him but a little—till to-morrow.
I cannot see him now.
Berengere. This is o'erstrange.
Yolanda. Help me to think. Go to him, go, and say
Some woman thing—that I am ill—that I
Am at confession—penance—that—Ah, say
But anything!
Some woman thing—that I am ill—that I
Am at confession—penance—that—Ah, say
But anything!
Berengere. Yolanda!
Yolanda. Say.... No use.
Too late.
Too late.
Berengere. His step?
Yolanda. Oh, unmistakable;
Along the corridor. There!
Along the corridor. There!
(The curtains are thrown back.)
Amaury (at the threshold.) My Yolanda!
(Hastens down and takes her, passive, into his arms. Berengere goes.)
Yolanda. Amaury, no; release me and say why
You come: The Saracens——?
You come: The Saracens——?
Amaury. Not of them now!
(Bends back her head.)
But of some tribute incense to this beauty!
Dear as the wind wafts from undying shrines
Of mystery and myrrh!
I'd have the eloquence of quickened moons
Pouring upon the midnight magical,
To say all I have yearned,
Now, with your head pillowed upon my breast!
Slow sullen speech come to my soldier lips,
Rough with command, and impotent of softness?
Come to my lips! or fill so full my eyes
That the unutterable, shall seem as sweet
To my Yolanda. (Lifting her face, with surprise.)
But how now? tears?
Dear as the wind wafts from undying shrines
Of mystery and myrrh!
I'd have the eloquence of quickened moons
Pouring upon the midnight magical,
To say all I have yearned,
Now, with your head pillowed upon my breast!
Slow sullen speech come to my soldier lips,
Rough with command, and impotent of softness?
Come to my lips! or fill so full my eyes
That the unutterable, shall seem as sweet
To my Yolanda. (Lifting her face, with surprise.)
But how now? tears?
Yolanda. Amaury——
Amaury. What have I done? Too pitiless have pressed
You to this coat of steel?
You to this coat of steel?
Yolanda. No, no.
Amaury. My words,
Or silence, then?
Or silence, then?
Yolanda. Amaury, no, but sweet,
Sweet as the roses of Damascus crusht,
Your silence is! and sweeter than the dream
Of April nightingale on Troados,
Or gushing by the springs of Chitria,
Your every word of love! Yet—yet—ah, fold me,
Within your arms oblivion and hold me,
Fast to your being press me, and there bless me
With breathèd power of your manhood's might.
Amaury!...
Sweet as the roses of Damascus crusht,
Your silence is! and sweeter than the dream
Of April nightingale on Troados,
Or gushing by the springs of Chitria,
Your every word of love! Yet—yet—ah, fold me,
Within your arms oblivion and hold me,
Fast to your being press me, and there bless me
With breathèd power of your manhood's might.
Amaury!...
Amaury. This I cannot understand.
Yolanda (freeing herself). Nothing—a folly—groundless frailty.
Amaury. You've been again at some old tale of sorrow,
(Goes to the lectern.)
Pining along the pages of a book—
This, telling of that Italy madonna
Whose days were sad—I have forgotten how.
Is it not so?
This, telling of that Italy madonna
Whose days were sad—I have forgotten how.
Is it not so?
Yolanda. No, no. The tears of women
Come as the air and sighing of the night,
We know not whence or why.
Come as the air and sighing of the night,
We know not whence or why.
Amaury. Often, perhaps.
I am not skilled to tell. But these—not these!
They are of trouble known.
I am not skilled to tell. But these—not these!
They are of trouble known.
Yolanda. Yet now forget them.
Amaury. It will not leave my heart that somehow—how
I cannot fathom—Camarin——
I cannot fathom—Camarin——
Yolanda (lightly, to stop him). No farther!
Amaury. That Camarin of Paphos is their cause.
Tell me——
Tell me——
Yolanda. Yes, that I love thee!
Amaury. Tell me——
Yolanda. Love thee!
As sea the sky! and as the sky the wind!
And as the wind the forest! As the forest—
What does the forest love, Amaury? I
Can think of nothing!
As sea the sky! and as the sky the wind!
And as the wind the forest! As the forest—
What does the forest love, Amaury? I
Can think of nothing!
Amaury. Tell me then you have
Never a moment of you yielded to him,
That never he has touched too long this hand—
Till evermore he must, even as I—
Nor once into your eyes too deep has gazed!
You falter? darken?
Never a moment of you yielded to him,
That never he has touched too long this hand—
Till evermore he must, even as I—
Nor once into your eyes too deep has gazed!
You falter? darken?
Yolanda. Would he ne'er had come
Into these halls! that it were beautiful,
Holy to hate him as the Lost can hate.
Into these halls! that it were beautiful,
Holy to hate him as the Lost can hate.
Amaury. But 'tis not?
Yolanda. God shall judge him.
Amaury. And not you?
Yolanda. Though he is weak, there is within him—
Amaury. That
Which women trust? and you?
Which women trust? and you?
(Berengere enters. He turns to her.)
Mother?
Berengere. A runner,
A soldier of your troop within the forts
Has come with word.
A soldier of your troop within the forts
Has come with word.
Amaury (starting). Mother!
Berengere. It is ill news?
I've seen that battle-light in you before.
'Tis of the Saracens? you ride to-night
Into their peril?
I've seen that battle-light in you before.
'Tis of the Saracens? you ride to-night
Into their peril?
Amaury. Come, the word, the word!
Berengere. Only this token.
Amaury. The spur? the spur? (Takes it.) They then
Are landing!
Are landing!
Yolanda. How, Amaury; tell your meaning!
Amaury. The galleys of the Saracens have found
Anchor and land to-night near Keryneia.
My troops are ready and await me—
So, no delay.
Anchor and land to-night near Keryneia.
My troops are ready and await me—
So, no delay.
Yolanda. I pray you (strangely, with terror) do not go.
Amaury. Yolanda!
Yolanda. If I am left alone—!
Amaury. Yolanda!
Yolanda (sinking to a seat). I meant it not—a breath of fear—no more.
Go, go.
Go, go.
Amaury. I know you not to-night. Farewell.
(He kisses her and hurries off.... A silence.)
Berengere. Yolanda——
Yolanda. Mother, I will go to sleep.
(She rises.)
Berengere. A change is over you—a difference
Drawn as a veil between us.
Drawn as a veil between us.
Yolanda. I am weary.
Berengere. You love me?
Berengere. Then—
Yolanda. I pray, no more.
To-night I am flooded with a deeper tide
Than yet has flowed into my life—and through it
Sounds premonition: so I must have calm.
To-night I am flooded with a deeper tide
Than yet has flowed into my life—and through it
Sounds premonition: so I must have calm.
(She embraces Berengere; goes slowly up steps and off.)
Berengere (chilled). What fear—if it is fear—has so unfixed her?
It is suspicion—Then I must not meet
Him here to-night—or if to-night, no more.
Her premonition!—and my dream that I
Should with a cross bring her deep bitterness.
It is suspicion—Then I must not meet
Him here to-night—or if to-night, no more.
Her premonition!—and my dream that I
Should with a cross bring her deep bitterness.
(Thinks a moment, then takes the crucifix from her neck.)
Had Renier but come, perhaps I might ...
(Lays it on table.)
O were I dead this sinning would awake me?...
And yet I care not (dully.) ... No, I will forget.
And yet I care not (dully.) ... No, I will forget.
(Goes firmly from door to door and looks out each. Then lifts, uniting, the cross-shaped candlestick; and waving it at the loggia, turns holding it before her.)
Soon he will come up from the cool, and touch
Away my weakness with mad tenderness.
Soon he will ... Ah!
Away my weakness with mad tenderness.
Soon he will ... Ah!
(Has seen with terror the candlestick's structure.)
The cross!... My dream!... Yolanda!
(Lets it fall.)
Mercy of God, move in me!... Sacrilege!
(Sinks feebly to the divan, and bows, overcome.)
Camarin (appearing after a pause an the loggia).
My Berengere, a moment, and I come!
My Berengere, a moment, and I come!
(Enters, locking the grating behind him, Then he hurries down and leans to lift her face.)
Berengere. No, no! nor ever, ever again, for ever!
(Shrinks.)
Go from me and behind leave no farewell....
Camarin. This is—illusion. In the dew I've waited,
And the night's song of you is in my brain—
A song that seems——
And the night's song of you is in my brain—
A song that seems——
Berengere. Withhold from words. At last
Fate is begun! See, with the cross it was
I waved you hither. Leave me—let me pass
Out of this sin—and to repentance—after.
Fate is begun! See, with the cross it was
I waved you hither. Leave me—let me pass
Out of this sin—and to repentance—after.
Camarin. I cannot, cannot!
Berengere. Pity, then, my fear.
This moment were it known would end with murder,
Or did it not, dishonour still would kill!
Leave, leave.
This moment were it known would end with murder,
Or did it not, dishonour still would kill!
Leave, leave.
Camarin. To-morrow, then; but not to-night!
(He goes behind and puts his arms around her.)
Give me thy being once again, thy beauty.
For it I'm mad as bacchanals for wine.
For it I'm mad as bacchanals for wine.
(Yolanda, entering an the balcony, hears, and would retreat, but sees Renier come to the grating.)
Once more be to me all that woman may!
Let us again take rapture wings and rise
Up to our world of love, guilt would unsphere.
Let us live over days that passed as streams
Limpid by lotus-banks unto the sea,
O'er all the whispered nights that we have clasped
Knowing the heights and all the deeps of passion!
But speak, and we shall be amid the stars.
Let us again take rapture wings and rise
Up to our world of love, guilt would unsphere.
Let us live over days that passed as streams
Limpid by lotus-banks unto the sea,
O'er all the whispered nights that we have clasped
Knowing the heights and all the deeps of passion!
But speak, and we shall be amid the stars.
(Renier draws a dagger and leaves the grating. With a low cry Yolanda staggers down: the Two rise, fearful.)
Berengere. Yolanda!
Yolanda. Mother, mother!... Ah, his eyes!
Berengere. What brings you here—to spy upon me?
Yolanda. Listen!...
Think not of me—no, hush—but of the peril
Arisen up.... Your husband!
Think not of me—no, hush—but of the peril
Arisen up.... Your husband!
Camarin. Renier?
Yolanda. Was at that grating—heard. And from its sheath,
A dagger—! Ah, he will come.
A dagger—! Ah, he will come.
Berengere (weakly). What does she say?
Yolanda. Find calmness now, and some expedient.
(She struggles to think.)
Berengere. I cannot die.
Yolanda. No, no.
Berengere. My flesh is weak,
Is poor of courage—poverished by guilt,
As all my soul is! But, Yolanda, you—!
Is poor of courage—poverished by guilt,
As all my soul is! But, Yolanda, you—!
Yolanda. Yes, something must be done—something be done.
(Camarin goes to the curtains and returns.)
Berengere. The shame ... the shame ... the shame!
Yolanda. There yet is time.
Berengere. You can deliver! you are innocent.
Berengere. You see?
There is escape? a way from it?
There is escape? a way from it?
Yolanda. Perhaps.
He came after your words ... yes ... could not see
Here in the dimness ... but has only heard
Sir Camarin?
He came after your words ... yes ... could not see
Here in the dimness ... but has only heard
Sir Camarin?
Berengere. I do not know!
Yolanda. Go, go,
Up to your chamber and be as asleep.
There is a way—I think—dim, but a way.
Go to your chamber; for there yet may be
Prevention!
Up to your chamber and be as asleep.
There is a way—I think—dim, but a way.
Go to your chamber; for there yet may be
Prevention!
Berengere. I—yes, yes.
Yolanda. There is a way.
(Berengere goes.)
Strength now to walk it! strength unfaltering.
Camarin. What do you purpose?
Yolanda. Here to take her place,
Here at the lowest of her destiny.
Here at the lowest of her destiny.
Camarin. I do not understand.
Yolanda. But wholly shall.
Clasp me within your arms; he must believe
'Tis I and not his wife you have unhallowed,
Your arms about me, though they burn! and breathe me
Thirst of unbounded love as unto her.
Clasp me within your arms; he must believe
'Tis I and not his wife you have unhallowed,
Your arms about me, though they burn! and breathe me
Thirst of unbounded love as unto her.
(He clasps her, and they wait.)
Ah, it is he!
Camarin. No.
Camarin (hoarsely). With all my body and soul-breath I love you,
(Renier enters with Moro.)
And all this night is ours for ecstasy.
Kiss me with quenchless kisses, and embrace
Me with your beauty, till——
Kiss me with quenchless kisses, and embrace
Me with your beauty, till——
(Yolanda with a cry, as of fear, loses herself, pretending to discover Renier, who is struck rigid.)
Moro. My lord, my lord!...
It is Yolanda.
It is Yolanda.
Renier. Then—
(The dagger falls from him.)
Why, then—Amaury!
(Yolanda, realising, stunned, sinks back to the divan.)
ACT II
Several Days have Elapsed.
Scene: The forecourt of the castle, beyond which is the garden and in the distance the mountains, under the deep tropical blue of morning. On the right the wall enclosing the castle grounds run back and is lost in the foliage of cypress, palm, orange; it is pierced by an arched gate with lifted portcullis. On the left rises the dark front of the castle, its arabesqued doorway open. Across the rear a low arcaded screen of masonry, with an entrance to the right, separates the court from the garden. Before it a fountain, guarded by a statue of a Knight of St. John, falls into a porphyry basin, By the castle door, to the front, and elsewhere, are stone seats. Hassan is standing moodily by the screen, left, looking out the portcullis. He starts, hearing steps, and as the old leach Tremitus enters, motions him silently into the castle; then muttering "the old blood-letter," stands as before, while Civa, Maga, and Mauria are heard m the garden, and enter gaily bearing water-jars to the fountain. Civa sees his look and breaks into a twitting laughter. The other two join her.
Civa. Look at him! Maga! Mauria! behold!
Was ever sight so sweet upon the world!
His eyes! his lips! a prince!
Was ever sight so sweet upon the world!
His eyes! his lips! a prince!
Mauria (critically). Now, is he not?
With the price of vinegar upon his face.
With the price of vinegar upon his face.
(All laugh.)
The price of vinegar! who'll buy!—Not I!
Not I! Not I! Not I!
Not I! Not I! Not I!
Hassan. Wench.
Civa. Verily!
And not a man! he has discovered it!
You're not a man, Mauria! we were duped.
And not a man! he has discovered it!
You're not a man, Mauria! we were duped.
(Mauria slaps her playfully.)
But see him now—a mummy of the Nile!
Who died of choler!
Who died of choler!
Mauria. Then, a care, he'll bite.
He's been in the grave a long while and he's hungry.
A barley-loaf, quick, Maga!
He's been in the grave a long while and he's hungry.
A barley-loaf, quick, Maga!
Civa. To appease him!
But ssh! Beware! There's something of import.
But ssh! Beware! There's something of import.
(They stop in mock awe before him.)
What does he think of?
Mauria. Sphinxes and the spheres.
Civa. Or little ants and gnats that buzz about him.
Mauria. And how to make them smart for sauciness.
Civa. Or of Alessa!
Maga. No, no, Civa! come;
Enough of teasing.
Enough of teasing.
Maga. No.
Your pitcher, come. He's troubled by the tale
Of lady Yolanda——
And waits for lord Amaury from the battle.
Your pitcher, come. He's troubled by the tale
Of lady Yolanda——
And waits for lord Amaury from the battle.
Civa. The—! heigh! heigh-o! awaits! la, la! he does!
(Hassan starts at her tone.)
For lord Amaury! does he so indeed?
Hassan. What do you know? Be silent.
Civa. Ho!
Hassan. Itch! would
You have lady Yolanda hear? She comes
Now, as she has this morning thrice, to ask.
You have lady Yolanda hear? She comes
Now, as she has this morning thrice, to ask.
(Yolanda appears on the threshold with Alessa.)
Lord Renier's gall, remember, if she learns.
(Civa flouts him, but goes to the fountain. The others follow, fill their jugs, and, singing, return to the garden. Yolanda then crosses to Hassan, who waits evasive.)
Yolanda. My want is still the same—words are unneeded.
Hassan. To know of lord Amaury?
Yolanda. Lord Amaury—
He has not yet returned?
He has not yet returned?
Hassan (loathly). I have not seen him.
Yolanda. Nor heard?
Hassan. Nothing.
Yolanda. I cannot understand.
(Goes to the gate, troubled.)
Hassan (low). Liar that I am to say it!
Yolanda. I cannot—cannot!
(Returns.)
The Saracens we know were routed to
Their vessels—all the Allah-crying horde.
And lord Amaury—said the courier not?——
Rode in the battle as a seraph might
To the Holy Sepulchre's deliverance.
And yet no word from him.
Their vessels—all the Allah-crying horde.
And lord Amaury—said the courier not?——
Rode in the battle as a seraph might
To the Holy Sepulchre's deliverance.
And yet no word from him.
Hassan. Perhaps—with reason.
(She looks at him quickly—he flushes.)
With reason!... knowing, lady, what, here, now,
Is rumoured of a baron
And lady Yolanda!... Pardon!
Is rumoured of a baron
And lady Yolanda!... Pardon!
Yolanda (slowly). Of a baron
And lady Yolanda.
And lady Yolanda.
Hassan. Yes: it is the women
Who with their ears ever at secresy
Rumour it. But, lady, it is a lie?
This Camarin, this prinker,
Whose purse is daily loose to us.... I curse him!
His father.... Well, my mother's ten years dead
And flower lips breathe innocent above her.
But I'll avenge her shame.
Who with their ears ever at secresy
Rumour it. But, lady, it is a lie?
This Camarin, this prinker,
Whose purse is daily loose to us.... I curse him!
His father.... Well, my mother's ten years dead
And flower lips breathe innocent above her.
But I'll avenge her shame.
Yolanda. On—him?
Hassan. On him!
And—you, who do not hush this tale of you,
Though it is truthless—hear:
I have a stab for Camarin of Paphos
Whenever he has lived—but say!—too long.
And—you, who do not hush this tale of you,
Though it is truthless—hear:
I have a stab for Camarin of Paphos
Whenever he has lived—but say!—too long.
Yolanda (who has listened rigidly. After a pause).
Come here ... look in my eyes, and—deeper.... Shame!
Come here ... look in my eyes, and—deeper.... Shame!
(He is quelled.)