LUCREZIA.
[Pulling at the fringe of his turban.] But call her back.
CESARE.
How fares His Holiness? You cannot dance
While there are ghostly footsteps on the stair;
But you can entertain him, make him laugh,
Till the sunny tears
Break out from all the creases of his eyes,
With the report of Djem before the shrines,
Cesare so profoundly heretic
He may no more be Cardinal.
LUCREZIA.
[Showing her small teeth as she smiles.] Come on!
I will report with great fidelity.
I will report
Djem is a Christian and must be baptized.
But you! Now as I am your boon-fellow,
And for the laughter of His Holiness,
Let us make sport together.... Comfits, Djem!
[They plunge down into the market-place; the people gather and follow them like a train.
CONFUSED VOICES.
Vitula! She is for Tiber!
—Her new husband is there in the Vatican.
—Her last husband has told us ... it is not to be spoken.
—That Turk might be her bridegroom.
—We know he is her brother.
—Where is Don Alfonso?
—Berenice!
—Pasiphaë!
—And she laughs like the sky of the first year!
—Her throat—its pearls are but shadows.
—She is beautiful as the good Madonna.