The Lady (aside).
O Fate,
How doth she innocently torture—rack
My soul with hard realities! I stand
And hear her talk of graves!—O God, the black,
Damp earth over my darling!
The Maiden (turning to the bedside).
Love, farewell!
I kiss thee once.—Lady, you do not mind?
It was but once. I would not seem unkind;
I would not wound you needlessly.
The Lady (aside).
O swell,
Proud heart, to bursting, but gainsay her not!
The Maiden.
I know full well that yours the harder lot,
Dear lady; but, forgive me, he was mine
Long, long before. It were too much to ask
That I should not be glad his heart returned
To me, his bride betrothed—to know he yearned
For me before he died. I cannot mask
My joy because you loved him too.
The Lady.