My thrice-blest Leonora, whom I pitied,
Fool that I was ! in her void, silent tomb.
The God of mercy hath reserved me truly
For a wise purpose.
ANNICCA.
Father, rise ; take courage;
We know not yet the end.
RIBERA.
Why should I rise
To front the level eyes of men s contempt?
Oh, I am shamed ! Cover my head, Annicca;
Darken mine eyes, and veil my face. Oh, God,
Would that I were a nameless, obscure man,
So could I bury with me my disgrace,
That now must be immortal. Where thou standest,
Annicca, there she stood last night. She kissed me;
Round mine old neck she wreathed her soft, young arms.
My wrinkled cheeks were wet with her warm tears.
She shuddered, and I thought it was the thunder
Struck terror through her soul. White-bearded fool!
FIAMETTA.
I found this scrip upon the chamber-floor,
Mayhap it brings some comfort.
