Civa. Of Alessa!
Maga. No.
Your pitcher, come. He's troubled by the tale
Of lady Yolanda —
And waits for lord Amaury from the battle.
Civa. The – ! heigh! heigh-o! awaits! la, la! he does!
[Hassan starts at her tone.
For lord Amaury! does he so indeed?
Hassan. What do you know? Be silent.
Civa. Ho!
Hassan. Itch! would
You have lady Yolanda hear? She comes
Now, as she has this morning thrice, to ask.
[Yolanda appears on the threshold with Alessa.
Lord Renier … remember, if she learns!
[Civa flouts him, but goes to the fountain. The others follow, fill their jars, and, singing, return to the garden. Yolanda then crosses to Hassan, who waits evasive.
Yolanda. My want is still the same – words are unneeded.
Hassan. To know of lord Amaury?
Yolanda. Lord Amaury —
He has not yet returned?
Hassan (loathly). I have not seen him.
Yolanda. Nor heard?
Hassan. Nothing.
Yolanda. I cannot understand.
[Goes to the gate, troubled.
Hassan (low). Liar that I am to say it!
Yolanda. I cannot – cannot!
[Returns.
The Saracens we know were routed to
Their vessels – all the Allah-crying horde.
And lord Amaury – said the courier not? —
Rode in the battle as a seraph might
To the Holy Sepulchre's deliverance.
And yet no word from him.
Hassan. Perhaps – with reason.
[She looks at him quickly – he flushes.
With reason! … knowing, lady, what, here, now,
Is rumoured of a baron
And lady Yolanda!.. Pardon!
Yolanda (slowly). Of a baron
And lady Yolanda.
Hassan. Yes: it is the women
Who with their ears ever at secrecy
Rumour it. But, lady, it is a lie?
This Camarin, this prinker,
Whose purse is daily loose to us… I curse him!
His father… Well, my mother's ten years dead,
Stained, as you know —
And flower-lips breathe innocent above her.
But I'll avenge her doom.