CRISTOFERO.
[To Don Federico.] Receive our sovereign’s thanks.
[Exit Don Federico.
LUCREZIA.
There are so many letters.
So many letters that I cannot write.
My poor Cristofero,
We meet this way together every morning;
I cannot write; I cannot sign my name.
It startles me to see my name....
Put by your papers.
[Cristofero lays manuscripts into drawers.
But there is an action:
Write to the Cardinal San Severini
That he may have new prayers, new prayers—all day
Said in the monasteries on account
Of the great sorrow I have had to bear.
[Laying her hand on Cristofero.
Provide that Vincent take
The gold I gave him to the Cardinal,
That a great requiem be solemnised
For the Prince Duke my husband—for his soul.
The glory of the saints play over him
And mingle him among them in their bliss!
I cannot bear my shadowy court of folk
That make no feast, that speak in low-toned voices,
And yet are raising up no prayers to Heaven
To draw down peace on him. There must be peace;
And I must lay my sorrow down to rest
Soft and for ever as I laid my dead.
[Cristofero begins to write; Lucrezia looks from the window.