(Enter Hassan.)
A nun to pity I will be no more.
But you, cruel Venetian ... Ah, ah,
Mother of God! is there no gentleness
In thee to move her and dissolve away
This jeopardy congealing over us?
(A pause.)
Vittia. You see, none.
Yolanda. Ah, for sceptre and for might
Then to compel you.
Vittia. Still, there is none.
Yolanda. None ...
(Sinks to a seat in despair.)
Yet could I think!
Hassan. Lady Yolanda—