whose features contain the lineaments of appreciation.
Clack and the rhythm swims to Sancha’s head.
Whom then shall she favour with a rose?
Perhaps she will give no look, but flicker
flicker for a moment the darkness of her eyelids
and freeze the heart in Pedro’s body beating.
The rhythm ceases; Pedro is not the favoured one.
A gleam of dagger and muffled fall of a body.