Now while the clarions rang out proclaiming Sir Palamon's defiance, Benedicta looked on Yolande and Yolande on Benedicta:
“O, wonderful!” cried the Duchess. “My Lord of Tong hath found him manhood and therewith a wisdom beyond most and singeth such love as methought only angels knew and maids might vision in their dreams. Ah, Yolande—that such a love could be ... e'en though he went ragged and poor in all but love....”
“Benedicta,” sighed Yolande, hands clasped on swelling bosom, “O Benedicta, here is no foolish Lord of Tong ... and yet ... O, I am mad!”
“Why, then, 'tis sweet madness! So, my Yolande, let us be mad awhile together ... thou—a Fool ... and I—a beggar-rogue!”
“Nay—alas, dear Benedicta! This were shame—”
“And forsooth is it shame doth swell thy heart, Yolande, light the glamour in thine eyes and set thee a-tremble—e'en as I? Nay indeed, thou'rt a-thrill with Folly ... and I, with Roguery. Loved Folly! Sweet Roguery! O Yolande, let us fly from empty state, from this mockery of life and learn the sweet joys of ... of beggary, and, crowned with poverty, clasp life—”
MYSELF, myself interrupting:
By the way, my dear, you'll understand,
Though this is very fine,
Still, her Grace's counsel to Yolande
Must not be in your line!
Not that I'd have you wed for wealth,
Or many a beggar-man by stealth,
But I would have you, if you can—
GILL: Marry some strong, stern, silent man,
Named Mark, and with hair slightly gray by the ears!
Now he's just the sort who would bore me to tears.
If I for a husband feel ever inclined,
I shall choose quite an ordin'ry husband—the kind
With plenty of money and nothing to do,
With a nice, comfy house, and a motor or two—
MYSELF: That's all very fine, miss, but what would you do
If he, by some ill-chance, quite penniless grew?
GILL: Oh, why then—why, of course,
I should get a divorce—
MYSELF: A divorce? Gracious heaven! For goodness' sake—
GILL: 'Twould be the most dignified action to take!
MYSELF: Pray, what in the world of such things do you know?
GILL: Well, father, like you—each day older I grow.
But, instead of discussing poor me,
I think you would much nicer be
To get on with our Geste.
MYSELF: I obey your behest!
Said Yolande to the duchess, said she:
“Nay, my Benedicta, these be only dreams, but life is real and dreams a very emptiness!”