Don Juan looked carelessly at them, lovingly at her. "I would fain hear a morning hymn from those sweet, tuneful lips," he pleaded.
"Most willingly, amigo mio,--
'Sanctissima--'"
"Hush, my beloved; hush, I entreat of you." And laying his hand lightly on her shoulder, he gazed in her face with a mixture of fond and tender admiration and of gentle reproach difficult to describe. "Not that. For the sake of all that lies between us and the old faith, not that. Rather let us sing together,--
'Vexill Regis prodeunt.'
For you know that between us and our King there stands, and there needs to stand, no human mediator. Do you not, my beloved?"
"I know that you are right," answered Beatrix, still reading her faith in Don Juan's eyes. "But we can sing afterwards, whatever you like, and as much as you will. I pray you let us come forth now into the sunshine together. Look, what a glorious morning it is!"
XXXIX.
Left Behind.
"They are all gone into a world of light.
And I alone am lingering here."--Henry Vaughan.