Vittia. The surety flies
Out of your cheek and dead upon your heart:
Yet you are innocent—oh innocent?—
O'er what abyss she hangs!
Yolanda. O'er no abyss.
Vittia. But to her lord is constant!
Yolanda (desperate). She is constant.
Vittia. And to his bed is true?
Yolanda. True.
Vittia. And this baron
Of Paphos—Camarin—is but her friend,
And deeply yours—as oft you feign to shield her?
Yolanda. He is no more.
Vittia. Your heart belies your lips,
Knows better than believing what you say.
Yolanda. Were, were he then ... (struggles) Lord Renier knows it not!
And never must. I have misled his thought
From her to me. The danger thus may pass,
The open shame.
Sir Camarin departed, her release
From the remorse and fettering will seem
Sweet as a vista into fairyland.
For none e'er will betray her.