FRANCESCA.
Tears? Death to both!
BERTUCCIO.
Take care! His guards are faithful. Can you trust
A hand to do the deed?
FRANCESCA.
I trust my own.
BERTUCCIO.
Women turn pale at blood. Your heart may fail you
When the time comes to strike.
FRANCESCA.
Daggers for men!
I know a surer weapon.
BERTUCCIO (creeping up to her and whispering).
Poison?
FRANCESCA (putting her finger on her lip).
Hush!
The Borgia's physician gave it me!
It may be trusted!
BERTUCCIO (withdrawing, aside).
My she leopard's loosed!
FRANCESCA (still at the door, C., listening).
Past doubt, a woman's tongue! And now my husband's
How well I know the soft, smooth, pleading voice,—
The voice that drew my young heart to my lips
When, at my father's court, I plighted troth
