Nought than thy velvet skin more white can show.
Thou art the star that shines, tho' bright the morn,
And casts on all around a silver glow."
But Rusidda's mother will have nothing to say to poor Turiddu; he complains, "Ah! God, what grief to have a tongue and not to be able to speak; to see her and dare not make any sign! Ah, God in heaven, and Virgin Mary, tell me what I am to do? I look at her, she looks at me, neither I nor she can say a word!" Then an idea strikes him; he gets a friend to take her a message: "When we pass each other in the street, we must not let the folk see that we are in love, but you will lower your eyes and I will lower my head; this shall be our way of saluting one another. Every saint has his day, we must await ours." Encouraged by this stratagem, Turiddu grows bold, and one dark night, when none can see who it is, he serenades his "little Rose:"
"Sleep, sleep, my hope, yea sleep, nor be afraid,
Sleep, sleep, my hope, in confidence serene,
For if we both in the same scales be weighed,
But little difference will be found between.
Have you for me unfeignèd love displayed,
My love for you shall greater still be seen.