FLORIO

Remember that young n.o.bleman who died For love of you?... I was your pastime, merely that!

And so I sipped what honey came my way.

But why do you come now?

Did you not leave me without a word?

VIOLANTE

My father....

[_Sombrely_] My father whom the Pestilence has smitten--

FLORIO [_quickly_]

You sent me no message.

VIOLANTE

Every door was watched ... he might have had you slain....

He bore me off to Rome....

FLORIO

You loved me, then?

VIOLANTE

And did not you love me?

FLORIO

I could have sworn I did.

VIOLANTE

O Florio!...

Where is my pride of rank, my woman's shame.

That I should come like this to you!

FLORIO

Speak not so, Violante--I pray you go!

VIOLANTE

You love another, then?

FLORIO [_ecstatically_]

I have loved beauty, beauty all my life!

VIOLANTE

We are not metaphors and pale abstractions, We women ... nor would we be prized alone For smooth perfections.... [_Low and intense_] Say that you loved a woman Smitten with the Plague, say, further, that she lived-- One among ten thousand--that she came back to you, [The one thing sure] hideous and marred--

FLORIO

You try me sorely!

Violante, I pray you, go!

VIOLANTE [_persistently_]

I have come hither To bid you come away with me.

FLORIO

It may not be.

VIOLANTE [_slowly_]

The other one--there is another one!-- I pity her!

FLORIO

You need not.

VIOLANTE

Ah, then, there is another?