Classic Poem

Scene V. Night. A Room in RIBERA'S House.
ANNICCA seated alone, in an attitude of
extreme weariness and despondency.

ANNICCA.
His heavy sleep still lasts. Despite the words
Of the physician, I can cast not off
That ghastly fear. Albeit he owned no drugs,
This deathlike slumber, this deep breathing slow,
His livid pallor makes me dread each moment
His weary pulse will cease. This is the end,
And from the first I knew it. The worst evil
My warning tongue had wrought were joy to this.
No heavier curse could I invoke on her
Than that she see him in her dreams, her thoughts,
As he is now. I could no longer bear it;
I have fled hither from his couch to breathe —
To quicken my spent courage for the end.
I cannot pray — my heart is full of curses.
He sleeps; he rests. What better could I wish
For his rent heart, his stunned, unbalanced brain,
Than sleep to be eternally prolonged?
Enter FIAMETTA. ANNICCA looks up anxiously, half rising.

ANNICCA.
How now? What news?

FIAMETTA.
The master is awake
And calls for you, signora.

ANNICCA.
Heaven be praised!
[Exit hastily.]

FIAMETTA.
Would I had followed my young mistress! Here
I creep about like a scared, guilty thing,
And fancy at each moment they will guess
'T was I who led her to the hut. I will confess,
If any sin there be, to Father Clement,
And buy indulgence with her golden chain.
'T would burn my throat, the master's rolling eyes
Would haunt me ever, if I went to wear it.
So, all will yet be well.
[Exit.]