y.
To-morrow he may steal a moment's grace
To see us both once more; but this is doubtful,
So he entrusted his farewells to me.

MARIA.
May peace go with him.

RIBERA.
We are alone--
Are we not, darling? Thanks for the calm content
Wherewith thou biddest him farewell, to nestle
Once more in mine embrace. Not long, I feel,
May these old horny eyes be blest with sight
Of thy full-flowering grace, these wrinkled lips
Be pressed against thy brow. I am no more
What I have been; at times both hand and brain
Refuse their task. Myself will follow soon--
The better part of me already dead.
So the worm claims us by slow torture, child.
Thou'lt bear with me, if as to-day I wrong
Thy gentle spirit?

MARIA.
Father, no more, no more!
You break my heart.

RIBERA.
Mine angel-child, weep not
So bitterly. I thought not thus to move thee.
Still thou art overwrought. I would have asked
At last a promise of thee. I am selfish,
But I would sleep less startingly o'nights,
And bear a calmer soul by day, were I secure
That thou wilt bide with me until the end.
[A pause.]
To-night I will not press thee. Thou art weary;
Thy nerves have scarce regained their tension yet;
But from thy deep emotion I can see
'T will cost thee less than I have feared. To-morrow
We will talk of this again.

MARIA.
To-morrow!

RIBERA.
Now,
Good-night. 'T is time thou shouldst be sleeping.

MARIA.
Father,
I cannot leave thee! Every word of thine
Gnaws like a burning coal my sore, soft heart.
What! thou shalt suffer, and thine own Maria
Will leave thee daughterless, uncomforted?
What! thou shalt weep, and other eyes than mine
Shall see the Spagnoletto's spirit broken?

RIBERA.
There, there, poor child! Look up, cling not so wildly
About my neck. Thou art too finely touched,
If thus the faint foreshadow of a grief
Can overcome thee. Listen? What was that?

MARIA (starts up, shudders violently, and, all at once, masters
her emotion).
Why, I heard nothing, father.

RIBERA.
Yes, a sound
Of footsteps, and a stifled call.
[He goes toward the