grinding toil--I thank the saints I am a simple man!

FIAMETTA.
I grant thee thou mayst be right concerning him; he hath indeed a
strange, sour mien. I shudder when he turns suddenly, as his wont
is, and bends his evil eyes on me. The holy father tells me such
warnings come from God. No matter how slight the service he asks
of me, my flesh creeps and my limbs refuse to move, till I have
whispered an Ave. But what of Lady Maria-Rosa? Both heaven and
earth smile upon her. To-night she wears a poor girl's dowry, a
separate fortune, on her head, her neck, her hands, yes, on her
little jeweled feet. One tiny shoe of hers would make me free to
wed my lad.

LUCA.
If he have but eyes, I warrant thee he finds jewels enough in thy
bright face. Tell me his name.

FIAMETTA.
Nay, that is my secret.

LUCA.
He must be a poor-souled lad if he will wait till thou hast earned
a dowry.

FIAMETTA.
A poor-souled lad! my good Vicenzo--ah! but no matter; thou knowest
him, Luca, my Lord Lorenzo's page. There!--is he poor, or mean, or
plain, or dull? He claims no dowry, he--but I have my pride, as well
as the great ones.

LUCA.
May the saints preserve thee from such as theirs! I am heartily glad
of thy good fortune. I am not sure whether thou or Lady Marie-Rosa
be the most favored. Well, the end proves all.
[Exeunt.]

Enter on one side ANNICCA and DON TOMMASO, attired for the ball;
on the other side, RIBERA.

RIBERA.
What do ye here, my children? Haste away!
Maria waits you for the ball; folk say
'T will be the bravest show e'er seen in Naples.
I warrant you the Spagnoletto brings
The richest jewels--what say'st thou, my son?

DON TOMMASO.
I who have robbed you of one gem, need scarce
Re-word, sir, how I prize it.

RIBERA.
Why, 't is true.
Robbed me, thou sayst? So hast thou. She was mine--
The balanced beauty of her flesh and spirit,
That was my garland, and I was her all,
Till thou, a stranger, stole her heart's allegiance,
Suborned--Forgive me, I am old, a father,
Whose doting passions blind. I am not jealous,
Believe me, sir. When we Riberas give,
We give without retraction or reserve,
Were it our life-blood. I rejoic