Pia.
It is his love for thee, Lisetta.
Lisetta.
The padre from the village hemmed and said
That God had sent me and my sickness here
For Guido's cross to bear, his scourge. They thought
I slept—
Pia.
Thou hast dreamed this, he loveth thee, Lisetta.
Lisetta.
Yea, loveth me somewhat but glory more.
And I would have it so. O Mother of God,
When wilt thou send me death? O Blessed Mother,
I have lain so still!
Pia.
Beware, Lisetta, tempt not God!
Lisetta.
Death is the sister of all them that weep, Pia.
Pia.
Child, child, try thou to sleep.
Lisetta.
For thy sake will I try.
Pia.
Aye, sleep now. I will smooth thy bed.
[Pia begins to draw up the covers smooth. She stops suddenly to listen.]
Hist!