And tongues of lawless men,—for in these days
All men are lawless,—'t is because I fear
To lose thee, as I lost thy mother.
FIORDELISA.
Father,
I'll pray for her.
BERTUCCIO.
Do, and for me; good-night!
FIORDELISA.
Oh, not so soon, with all these sad dark thoughts,
These bitter memories. You need my love;
I'll touch my lute for you, and sing to it.
Music, you know, chases all evil angels.
BERTUCCIO.
I must go: 't is grave business calls me hence.
[Aside.] 'T is time that I was at my post. My own,
Sleep in thine innocence. Good! good-night!
FIORDELISA.
But let me see you to the outer door.
BERTUCCIO.
Not a step further, then. God guard this place,
That here my flower may grow, safe from the blight
Of look, or word impure,—a holy thing
Consecrate to my service, and my love!
[Exit Bertuccio and Fiordelisa, R. Enter from behind the arras, Manfredi and Torelli.
MANFREDI.
His daughter! That so fair a branch should spring
From such a gnarled and misshapen stock!
