RIBERA.
Nay, but found it.
I, who was dull of wit, am keen at last.
"Don John is comely," and "Don John is kind;"
"A wonderful musician is Don John,"
"A princely artist"—and then, meek of mien,
You enter in his presence, modest, simple.
And who beneath that kitten grace had spied
The claws of mischief? Who! Why, all the world,
Save the fond, wrinkled, hoary fool, thy father.
Out, girl, for shame! He will be here anon;
Hence to your room—he shall not find you here.
Thank God, thank God! no evil hath been wrought
That may not be repaired. I have sat by
At all your meetings. You shall have no more;
Myself will look to that. Away, away!
[Exit Maria.]
RIBERA (looks after her).
As one who has received a deadly hurt,
She walks. What if my doubts be false? The terror
Of an unlooked-for blow, a treacherous thrust
When least expected—that is all she showed.
On a false charge, myself had acted thus.
She had been moved far otherwise if guilty;
She had wept, protested, begged—she had not left
With such a proud and speechless show of grief.
I was too harsh, too quick on slight suspicion.
What did Annicca say? Why, she said naught.
'T was her grave air, her sudden reticence,
Her ill-assumed indifference. They play on me;
They know me not. They dread my violent passions,
Not guessing what a firm and constant bridle
I hold them with. On just cause to be angered,
Is merely human. Yet they sound my temper;
They try to lead me like some half-tamed beast,
That must be coaxed. Well, I may laugh thereat.
But I am not myself to-day; strange pains
Shoot through my head and limbs and vex my spirit.
Oh, I have wronged my child! Return, Maria!
[Exit, calling.]
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Night. RIBERA'S bedroom. RIBERA discovered in his dressing-gown,
seated reading beside a table, with a light upon it. Enter from
an open door at the back of the stage, MARIA. She stands
irresolute for a moment on the threshold behind her father,
watching him, passes her hand rapidly over her brow and eyes,
and then knocks.
MARIA.
May I come in, dear father?
RIBERA (putting down his book and looking at her affectionately).
Child, you ask?
MARIA (advancing).
You study late. I came to bid good-night.
RIBERA.
Poor child, thou must be weary. Thou art pale
Still from thy swoon.
MARIA (with a forced laugh).
I had forgotten it.
Nay, I am well again.