Pietro. Slave, she must never! You will take them to her!
[Fumbles for papers.
In to her ... quickly!...
Dear slave, you will—and say if she inquire
That I was led astray
By the little Cyprian with guiling eyes
Who fell enamoured of me at the gate.
Smarda. Civa!
Pietro. The same! I sought to run away,
[Still searching.
O slave, say to her, but I could not for—
For—for a lady by the marble knight,
That is, by the fountain, swooned, as I came in.
And then—
Smarda. Swooned!
Pietro. As I came!
Smarda (a-quiver). Beside the fount?
Who? which? lady Yolanda? lady Berengere?