Though we are still so young, since we have met,
Which I have worn in widowhood of heart.
He loved me not: yet he seems little changed—
Changed to me only—would the change were mutual!
He speaks not—scarce regards me—not a word,240
Nor look—yet he was soft of voice and aspect,
Indifferent, not austere. My Lord!
Sar.Zarina!
Zar. No, not Zarina—do not say Zarina.
That tone—That word—annihilate long years,