LUCREZIA.
But the moment....
JUANITO.
Of a sudden
The foe retreated, leaving me: I reached
The rough-hewn gorge....
[Near to her and in a changed voice.
He lay there, naked
He lay....
[Lucrezia folds her arms over her breast as with a close embrace.
—his face under the sky: his wounds
A hero’s—twenty-three; across his loins
A bloodied stone, his life-blood round the rocks,
His hair a weft of red. How beautiful,
And wild and out of memory was his face!
The great wind swept him and the sun rose up ...
LUCREZIA.
They buried him?