Ulr. (starting).‍Blood!

Ida. Why does yours start from your cheeks?

Ulr.‍Aye! doth it?

Ida. It doth—but no! it rushes like a torrent

Even to your brow again.

Ulr. (recovering himself). And if it fled,

It only was because your presence sent it160

Back to my heart, which beats for you, sweet Cousin!

Ida. "Cousin" again.

Ulr.‍Nay, then, I'll call you sister.