ANTONIO: She is Helena?--the Greek?

CHARLES: She--Still you do not ail?--Yes, Helena, Who--But you are not well and cannot share This ravishment!--I will not ask it--now.

This ravishment!--Ah, she has stayed the tread And stilled the whispering of death: has called Echoes of youth from me! and all I feared....

I think--you are not well. Shall we go in?

CURTAIN.

ACT THREE

_Scene._--_The gardens of the castle. Paths meet under a large lime in the centre, where seats are placed. The wall of the garden crosses the rear, and has a postern. It is night of the same day, and behind a convent on a near hill the moon is rising. A nightingale sings._

_Enter GIULIA, CECCO, and NALDO._

GIULIA: That bird! Always so noisy, always vain Of gushing. Sing, and sing, sing, sing, it must!

As if n.o.body else would speak or sleep.

CECCO: Let the bird be, my jaunty. 'Tis no lie The shrew and nightingale were never friends.

GIULIA: No more were shrew and serpent.

CECCO: Well what would You scratch from me?

GIULIA: If there is anything To be got from you, then it must be scratched.

CECCO: Yet shrews do not scratch serpents.

GIULIA: If they're caught Where they can neither coil nor strike?

CECCO: Well, _I_ Begin to coil.

GIULIA: And I'll begin to scotch You ere 'tis done.--Give me the postern key.

CECCO: Your lady's voice--but you are not your lady.

GIULIA: And were I you not long would be your lord's.

Give me the key.

CECCO: I coil--I coil! will soon Be ready for a strike, my tender shrew.

GIULIA: Does the duke know you've hidden from his ear Antonio's pa.s.sion? does he?--ah?--and shall I tell him? ah?

CECCO: You heard then----

GIULIA: He likes well What's kept so thriftily.

CECCO (_scowling_): You want the key To let in Boro to chuck your baby face And moon with you! He's been discharged--take care.

GIULIA: The duke might learn, too, you're not clear between His ducats and your own.

CECCO: There then (_gives key_), but----

GIULIA (_as he goes_): Oh?

And shrews do not scratch serpents? You may spy, But others are not witless, I can tell you!

(_CECCO goes_.

Now, Naldo (_gives him key and writing_), do not lose the writing. But Should you, he must not come till two. For 'tis At twelve the Greek will meet Antonio.

(_NALDO goes, through the postern: GIULIA to the castle._

_Enter HELENA and PAULA from another part of the gardens._

HELENA: At twelve, said he, at twelve, beside the arbor?

PAULA: Yes, mistress.

HELENA: I were patient if the moon Would slip less sadly up. She is so pale-- With longing for Endymion her lover.

PAULA: Has she a lover? Oh, how strange. Is it So sweet to love, my lady? I have heard Men die and women for it weep themselves Into the grave--yet gladly.

HELENA: Sweet? Ah, yes, To terror! for the edge of fate cares not How quick it severs.

PAULA: On my simple hills They told of one who slew herself on her Dead lover's breast. Would you do so?

Would you, my lady?

HELENA: There's no twain in love.

My heart is in my lord Antonio's To beat, Paula, or cease with it.

PAULA: But died He far away?

HELENA: Far sunders flesh not souls.

Across all lands the hush of death on him Would sound to me; and, did he live, denial, Though every voice and silence spoke it, could Not reach my rest!--But he is near.

PAULA: O no, Not yet, my lady.

HELENA: Then some weariness Has pluckt the minutes' wings and they have crept.

PAULA: But 'tis not twelve, else would we hear the band Of holy Basil from their convent peace Dreamily chant.

HELENA: Nay, hearts may hear beyond The hark of ears! Listen! to me his step Thrills thro' the earth.

(_ANTONIO approaches and enters the postern._) 'Tis he! Go Paula, go: But sleep not.

(_PAULA hastens out._) (_Going to him._) My Antonio, I breathe, Now no betiding fell athwart thy path To stay thee from me!

ANTONIO: Stronger than all betiding This hour has reached and drawn me yearning to thee!

(_Takes her in his arms._)