Befits reunion. (Aside.) Heart, will you bear her anger
Nor rather make amends? (Aloud.) I follow her;
Her delicate feeling’s right.
Salome.
Go, self-deceiver!
The fright of seeing you recalled to life,
The shame of having credited your death,
The greater shame of her spoiled widowhood—
O’ersmooth it all with fondling gloss of shyness
The maiden feels who ne’er has known a man