Hassan. No word of him?
Berengere. None, though he yesterday left Nicosie
With the priest Moro.
Hassan. Lady—
Berengere. Wait no longer.
Come, women, with your lamps and light the way.
[The women go by the steps. Berengere follows.
Hassan (staring after her). The reason of this mood in her? the reason?
Something is vile. Lady Yolanda weeps
In secret; all for what? By God! the Paphian?
Or she of Venice? (sees Smarda). Now slave! Scythian!
Why do you linger?
Smarda. I am bidden—(snarls) by
My mistress.
Hassan. Spa! Thy mistress hath, I think,
Something of hell in her and has unpacked
A portion in this castle. Is it so?
Smarda. My lady is of Venice.