Hilda.
Yes, and came here to seek a braver time.
Gioconda.
How odd! I had a letter, all in rhyme,
Brought by a lackey to my father's gate
Just when dawn broke. As if I couldn't wait!
He dashed up, panting; and his horse's mouth
Was flecked with blood and foam...
Hilda (clasping her hands).
The passionate South!
Gioconda.
The fellow gave the letter, gasped, went red,
And straightway horse and lackey fell down dead.
I scanned the note, observed the flowery phrases
In which the writer smothered me with praises;
Compared them with the style of Bernard Shaw,
And told him briskly that he might withdraw.
Hilda.