Hil. In truth, the love that Mousta laughs at tells
How strangely ordered is a woman’s heart!
Dost thou remember how, when first we came
To this fair isle, I said, in thoughtless jest,
“As woman’s heart must love, and we are women,
So let us choose our loves”—then, looking round,
“This running fountain shall be mine,” I cried,
And, kneeling by the brink, then sealed the vow
As all such vows are sealed ’twixt men and women—
And thou, poor child, pleased with the jest, replied,