Renier (slowly). And we might be
As those that wedded love?
Berengere. Perhaps.
Renier. That—love!
[A pause.
Then it shall be, at once.... But no, I first
Have a confession.
Berengere. You?
Renier. A pang!—For days
[Takes her hand.
Before I found Yolanda on the breast
Of Camarin of Paphos——
I suffered in the furnace of suspicion
The fume and suffocation of the thought
That you were the guilty one—you my own wife.