I am the herd girl here as at Morbec,
And she’s a great lady, loved for herself!
O love! is it love that stifles me so?
O love! is it love that makes me weep?
I thought that love was all splendour and light,
The bow in the sky, the bird at its height,
The glory and state of an angel bright!
What is this pain that burdens all my heart?
[She bows her head upon her knees. The hum of the
street deepens to a continuous and sinister sound.