Yolanda. No, no. The tears of women
Come as the air and sighing of the night,
We know not whence or why.
Amaury. Often, perhaps.
I am not skilled to tell. But these—not these!
They are of trouble known.
Yolanda. Yet now forget them.
Amaury. It will not leave my heart that somehow—how
I cannot fathom—Camarin——
Yolanda (lightly, to stop him). No farther!
Amaury. That Camarin of Paphos is their cause.
Tell me——
Yolanda. Yes, that I love thee!
Amaury. Tell me——
Yolanda. Love thee!
As sea the sky! and as the sky the wind!
And as the wind the forest! As the forest—
What does the forest love, Amaury? I
Can think of nothing!
Amaury. Tell me then you have
Never a moment of you yielded to him,
That never he has touched too long this hand—
Till evermore he must, even as I—
Nor once into your eyes too deep has gazed!
You falter? darken?