The lord of Lusignan.
Amaury. My father?
Smarda. He.
And you are sought below, I heard it said:
Some officer of Famagouste – and men.
[Amaury turns dazed and goes.
Vittia (through a surge of thoughts that have darkened her face).
This is again fortune! … fortune!
Smarda. Lady?
Vittia. Is! though an instant since it seemed disaster.
Smarda. And how?
Vittia. Yolanda, does not know? nothing?
Smarda. Nothing. She was returning from the rocks,
Where nest the windy gulls,
[Gloatingly.
As I came hither, I stole there at noon
To see her suffer.
Vittia. Then – I can compel her.
She will come here. Go to the curtains, see.
If she is near, the Paphian is in
The bower by the cypress: there, tell him,
The loggia – at once… Ah!
Yolanda enters.
Yolanda (to herself). "Ah" indeed.
[Her look of purpose changes to one of distrust. But she firmly fronts to Vittia, as the slave slips out.
Vittia. My gratitude! I wished, and you are here.
Yolanda. And – for some reason of less honour – you.
Vittia. I, a dear guest? fa!
Yolanda. Would you were! … not one
This ne'er-before-envenomed air would banish.
[Slowly.
One whose abiding
These walls would loathe aloud – had they a tongue
To utter.
Vittia. Yet I may be mistress of them.
Ere all is done – since still it is my purpose.
Yolanda. Gulfs wide as the hate of God for infamy
Would lie preventing; so there is no fear.
[Sits.
Vittia. A prophesy!
Yolanda. A deeper than disdain.
Vittia. Or than your love of Camarin of Paphos!
Yolanda. Which you would feign, but cannot.
Vittia. Still, before
Evening is done, you will become his wife.
Yolanda. If, ere it come, all under Lusignan
Do not look scorn on Vittia Pisani.
[Rises.
Vittia. What! how?
Yolanda. Plentiful scorn! (With joy.) A thing may still