Smarda. Ere he has time, lady,
To vaunt of love in Lusignan and babble.
Vittia. A wooing dolt! but safe—because he fears.—
I shall be in this place with lord Amaury,
Whom I must ... but no matter.
He left me suddenly
A season since, seeing his father's look
Strangely upon his mother: for that doubt,
His father's, still I've been compelled to feed,
To move Yolanda.—
Here I shall be, then, here within this place.
(She goes engrossedly.)
Smarda (recalling the pledge; evilly). A-ha! Ha-ha! Ha-ha! If she but win!
A talisman with might upon the Moor!
(Begins to dance—a charm held up before her.)
If she but win! a-ha! a curse on him!
(Whirls faster with a wild grace, swaying to and fro, and chanting softly the while, till suddenly a laugh in the corridor stops her, and Pietro is heard through the curtains adoring Civa, who pushes him into the Hall, then runs away laughing.)
Pietro (after her). Hold, fair one! Stay!
(Turns.)
Smarda. Pietro!