FULVIA: My lord, flowers and vines upon these walls That seem always in dismal memory And mist of grief? What means it?

CHARLES: That sprung up, A greedy mult.i.tude upon the fields, Citron and olive were left hungry, so I quelled them!

FULVIA: Magic ever dwells in flowers To waft me back to childhood. (_Taking some._) Poor pluckt buds If they could speak like children torn from the breast.

CHARLES: You're full of sighs and pity then?

FULVIA: Yes, and-- Of doubt.

CHARLES: What so divides you?

FULVIA: Helena-- This Greek--I do not understand.

CHARLES: Nor guess?

You have not seen nor spoken to her?

FULVIA: No.

CHARLES: We'll have her. (_Motions servant._) Go. Say that we wait her here, The lady Helena. (_Servant goes._ She's frighted--thinks 'Tmay be her father found too deep a rest Within our care: yet has a hope that holds The tears still from her lids. I've smiled on her, Smiled, Fulvia, and she--Why do you cloud?

FULVIA: I would this were undone.

CHARLES: Undone? Undone?

You would it were----?

_Enter HELENA._

Ah, Greek! Our Fulvia, Who is as heart and health about our doors, Has speech for you. And polities Untended groan for me. (_He goes._

FULVIA (_looking sadly at her_): Girl--child--

HELENA: Why do You call me so with struggle on your breast?

FULVIA: You're very fair.

HELENA: And was so free I thought The world brimmed up with my full happiness.

FULVIA: But find it is a sieve to all but grief?

HELENA: Is it then grief? I have not any tears, Yet seem girt by an emptiness that aches, Surrounds and whispers, what I dare not think Or, shapened, see.

FULVIA: It stains too as a shroud The morrow's face?

HELENA: You look at me--I think You look at me, as if----?

FULVIA: No child.

HELENA: Why am I in this place? You fear for me?

FULVIA: Fear?

HELENA: Yes!

A dumb dread trembles from you sufferingly.

FULVIA: It is not fear. Or--no!--has vanished quite, Ashamed of its too naked idleness.

HELENA (_shuddering_): He cannot, will not!--Yet you feared!

FULVIA: Be calm: Beauty is better so.

HELENA: Ah, you are cold!

See a great shadow reach and wrap at me, Yet lend no light! By gentleness I pray you, What said he?

FULVIA: Child----

HELENA: Child!--Ah, a moment's dread Brings age on us!--If not by gentleness, Then by that love that women bear to men, By happiness too fleeting to tread earth, I pray you tell the fear your heart so hides!

FULVIA: You are the guest of Charles di Tocca.

HELENA: Guest?

Ah, guests are bidden, not commanded.--Where, Where can Antonio be gone. All day No token, quieting!

FULVIA: Antonio, girl?

Antonio?--Is it true?

_Re-enter CHARLES._

CHARLES: So eager?--Truth Has brewed more tears than lies. But, Fulvia, Why doth it mated with Antonio's name Wring thus your troubled hands?

FULVIA: My lord----

CHARLES: You falter?

No matter--now. (_To HELENA._) But you, my fair one, put More merriment upon your lips and lids, And this (_giving pearls_) upon the l.u.s.tre of your throat.

Hither our guests come soon. Be with us then, And at your beauty's best. Now; trembling so?-- Yet is the lily lovelier in the wind!

(_He looks after, musingly, as she goes._

FULVIA: My lord----

CHARLES: True, Fulvia--as t.i.tles go.

FULVIA: My lord----

CHARLES: Twice--but I'm not two lords.

FULVIA: To-night I think you are. But quench your jests.

CHARLES: In tears?

And groans? Where borrow them?