(Goes, looking steadfastly back.)
Yolanda (turning, then, to Berengere).
His mood and mien—that tremor in his throat,
Unfaltering. I fear him.
Berengere. Life is fear.
No step was ever taken in the world
But from a brink of danger, or in flight
From happiness whose air is ever sin.
It sickens me.
Yolanda. Mother!
Berengere. Nothing; a pain
Here in my breast. (Sits.)
Yolanda. And it is all through him
Who as a guest came pledged into this house.
Came with the chivalry and manly show
Of reverence and grace, and on his lips
Lore of the east and wonders of the west.
(Camarin appears from garden.)
Ah, and he seeks us now! unwhelmed of it!
Ready of step, impassive, cold! And see—
(He bows, then listens rigidly.)
A flawless courtesy! as 'twere a king's.
Can he not smile too on his handiwork?
Our days were merciful and he has made
Each moment's beat a blow upon the breast.
Honour was here and innocence lies now
A sacrifice that pain cannot consume.