Vittia. Then—I can compel her.
She will come here. Go to the curtains, see.
If she is near, the Paphian is in
The bower by the cypress: there, tell him,
The loggia—at once.... Ah!
Yolanda enters.
Yolanda (to herself). "Ah" indeed.
[Her look of purpose changes to one of distrust. But she firmly fronts to Vittia, as the slave slips out.
Vittia. My gratitude! I wished, and you are here.
Yolanda. And—for some reason of less honour—you.
Vittia. I, a dear guest? fa!
Yolanda. Would you were! ... not one
This ne'er-before-envenomed air would banish.
[Slowly.
One whose abiding
These walls would loathe aloud—had they a tongue
To utter.