“Dost thou not LOVE him? Ah! thou dost start, Lucrezia. Even now I read in that face of thine thy crime.”

“Don Alfonzo!”

“Nay, do not speak—”

“If I swear?”

“It were useless. What! shall I never be revenged on thee? If I may not strike thee openly, shall I let pass this hope of wounding thee?”

“Pardon, Don Alfonzo.”

“Pardon!”

“For pity’s sake.”

“What, canst thou speak of pity—thou, Lucrezia?”

“Don Alfonzo, dear husband.” On her knees to him, clinging to him, her eyes dilated, her lips dry and white.