Moro. I bid.
Amaury. And I forbid those who
Have prized her not!
For though nought's in the world but prayer may move,
Still but the lips that loved her
Should for her any sin beseeching lift.
(Looking at Yolanda.)
They and no other!
Yolanda. And, you mean——?
Amaury. Not one.
Yolanda. Then, mother——
(Goes to bier.)
Amaury. That name again?