For I have suffered very bitterly!
Hil. Vavir, I have a prayer to make to thee.
Vavir, thou lovest him: thy little life,
More precious to us all than all the world,
Lies in his hands—he is thy life to thee,
And pitying Heaven hath led him to our shores
To save thee for us. Take no thought for me,
For I have wrestled with this love of mine
And vanquished it—it lies beneath my feet! (With assumed gaiety.)
Remember, thou and I have but one heart,