[He goes out. Pia stands a moment wiping her eyes, then returns to shelling the peas. There is a silence for a while.]
Pia.
Why dost thou look so long upon the door?
Lisetta.
Pia, the spring smiles on the tender grass,
Surely the sun is brighter where he stood.
Pia.
'Tis a glaring sun for twilight.
Lisetta.
Pia, 'twill be the gentlest of all eves.
Surely God sent the brother for my need,
To give His peace.
Pia.
Aye, and my old heart ripens at his words
Like apples in the sun. 'Tis a sweet monk.
Lisetta.
Who is he, think you?
Pia.
One of the Little Poor Men, by his brown.
They are too thin, these brothers, and do lack
Stomach for life. [She returns to the peas.] Mark, oh, 'tis merry now
To see the little beggars from their pods
Popping like schoolboys from their shoes in spring!
The season hath been so fine and dry this year
My peas are smaller and must have more work.
Well, well, labor is good, and things made scarce
Are better loved.
Lisetta.
Pia, thou art a good woman.
Pia.
Child, do not make me cry. 'Tis thy pure heart
Deceives thee. Stubborn I am and full of sloth,
And a wicked old thing.