RIBERA.
There, there, poor child! Look up, cling not so wildly
About my neck. Thou art too finely touched,
If thus the faint foreshadow of a grief
Can overcome thee. Listen? What was that?
MARIA (starts up, shudders violently, and, all at once, masters
her emotion).
Why, I heard nothing, father.
RIBERA.
Yes, a sound
Of footsteps, and a stifled call.
[He goes toward the casement. MARIA tries to detain him.]
MARIA.
Dear father,
Surely 't was naught. Your ears deceive you.
The wind is rising, and you heard the leaves
Rustling together.
RIBERA.
Nay, I will look forth.
[He opens the casement and looks out in silence. MARIA stands
behind him, with her hands clasped in an agony of fear.]
RIBERA (calling).
Hist, answer! Who goes there? (a pause.) No sound. Thou'rt right,
Maria; I see naught; our garden lies
Vacant and still, save for the swaying branches
Of bush and tree. 'T is a wild, threatening night.
A sultry breeze is blowing, and the sky
Hangs black above Vesuvius. Yonder cloud
Hath lightnings in it. Ah, a blinding bolt
Dims the volcano's pillared fire. Enough.
[He closes the casement and returns to MARIA.]
Hark, how the thunder rolls! My child, you tremble
Like the blown leaves without.
MARIA.
I am oppressed
By the same stormy influence. Thou knowest
I dread the thunder.
RIBERA.
Thou, who art safely housed,
Why shouldst thou dread it? Try to sleep, my darling;
Forget the terror of the tempest; morn
Will break again in sunshine.
MARIA.
Father, say
You love me and you trust me once again,
Before I bid good-night.
RIBERA.
If it will calm thee,
I love thee and I trust thee. Thou art to me
My genius—thou, the breathing image still
Of thy saint-mother, whom the angels guard.
Even as thou standest now, vested in white,
With glowing eyes and pale, unsmiling face,
I see her as she stood the day her heart
Went forth from home and kin to bless the stranger
Who craved her father's alms.