Berengere. At once.
Yolanda (in dread). Ah!
Berengere. Child?...
Vittia (to Yolanda). To-night
Must be the end.
Yolanda. Go, go.
Berengere (as Vittia passes out). What thing is this?
Yolanda. Mother, I cannot have him—here—Amaury!
Defer him but a little—till to-morrow.
I cannot see him now.
Berengere. This is o'erstrange.
Yolanda. Help me to think. Go to him, go, and say
Some woman thing—that I am ill—that I
Am at confession—penance—that—Ah, say
But anything!