marda._ Of his mother.

_Vittia._ How!

_Smarda._ She swooned of terror at the castle gate.
She lies in danger. Hear--'twas as she fled
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?