Alessa. My lady—?
Berengere. Go;
And send me Hassan.
(The women leave.)
Camarin—you saw?
They were not as their wont is.
Camarin. To your eyes,
My Berengere, that apprehension haunts.
They were as ever. Then be done with fear!
Berengere. I cannot.
Camarin. To the abyss with it. To-night
Is ours—Renier tarries at Famagouste—
Is ours for love and for a long delight!
Berengere. Whose end may be—
Camarin. Dawn and the dewy lark!
And passing of all presage from you.
Berengere (sits). No:
For think, Yolanda's look when by the cypress
We read the verses! And my dream that I
Should with a cross—inscrutable is sleep!—
Bring her deep bitterness.