With the strong passion of repentant love,
Wring forth a voice to pardon me!
Rai. You weep!
Tears for the garlands on a maiden’s grave!
You know not how he died!
Aym. Not of his wound?
Rai. His wound!—it is the silent spirit’s wound,
We cannot reach to heal! One burning thought
Prey’d on his heart.
Aym. Not—not—he had not heard—