If I could see that letter!
Gioconda.
So you shall, Sweet friend—or, rather, right you are, old pal.
I'll read it.
[She produces a letter tied with rose-coloured ribbon.
Hilda.
Do!... I see his passion's flood Demands red ink.
Gioconda.
Oh dear, no—that's his blood.
Now, listen. Did you ever hear a style
Quite so absurd? I call it simply vile. [Reading.
[Reading.
'Adored Gioconda—glittering star
Unsullied by the dusty world,
Rich rose with leaves but half uncurled,
New Venus in thy dove-drawn car—
Have pity: drive thy wrath afar.
Let Cupid's war-flag be upfurled,
Lest by thy gentle hand be hurled
The mortal bolt that leaves no scar.