By the child's cradle—there a little since,
But suddenly rose up and fled from it,
Saying—she would wed death!
Marina.
Wed death! Signora!
Bianca.
Yes; I was near. Her words—that struck me stark.
I could not speak. Do you know aught of this,
You who have seen these dark distractions in her?
Or does this ... drone of Signor Osio?