o, Civa! come;
Enough of teasing.

_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.