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for your lamps,

      And for your aves and o'erneeded sleep.

      But first I'd know if yet lord Renier —

      [Sees Alessa's face.

      Why are you pale?

      Alessa. I?

      Berengere. So – and strange.

      Alessa. We have

      But put away the distaff and the needle.

      Camarin enters.

      Berengere. The distaff and the needle – it may be.

      And yet you do not seem —

      Alessa. My lady – ?

      Berengere. Go.

      And send me Hassan.

      [The women leave.

      Camarin – you saw?

      They were not as their wont is.

      Camarin. To your eyes,

      My Berengere, that apprehension haunts.

      They were as ever. Then be done with fear!

      Berengere. I cannot.

      Camarin. To the abyss with it. To-night

      Is ours – Renier tarries at Famagouste —

      Is ours for love and for a long delight!

      Berengere. Whose end may be —

      Camarin. Dawn and the dewy lark!

      And passing of all presage from you.

      Berengere (sits). No:

      For think, Yolanda's look when by the cypress

      We read the verses! And my dream that I

      Should with a cross – inscrutable is sleep! —

      Bring her deep bitterness.

      Camarin. Dreams are a brood

      Born of the night and not of destiny.

      She guesses not our guilt, and Renier

      Clasps to his breast ambition as a bride —

      Ambition for Amaury.

      Berengere. None can say.

      He's much with this Venetian, our guest,

      Though Venice gyves us more with tyranny

      Than would the Saracen.

      Camarin. But through this lady

      Of the Pisani, powerful in Venice,

      He hopes to lift again his dynasty

      Up from decay; and to restore this island,

      This verdure-dream of the seas, unto his house.

      'Tis clear, my Berengere!

      Berengere. Then, her design?

      And, the requital that entices her?

      [Rises.

      Evil will come of it, to us some evil,

      Or to Yolanda and Amaury's love. —

      But, there; the women.

      Camarin. And too brief their stay.

      What signal for to-night?

      Berengere. Be in the garden.

      Over the threshold yonder I will wave

      The candle-sign, when all are passed to sleep.

      Camarin. And with the beam I shall mount up to you

      Quicker than ecstasy.

      Berengere. I am as a leaf

      Before the wind and raging of your love.

      Go – go.

      Camarin. But to return unto your breast!

      [He leaves her by the divan.

      [The women re-enter with silver lighted lamps; behind them are Hassan and the slave Smarda. They wait for Berengere, who has stood silent, to speak.

      Berengere (looking up). Ah, you are come; I had forgotten.

      And it is time for sleep. – Hassan, the gates:

      Close them.

      Hassan. And chain them, lady?

      Berengere. Wait no longer.

      Lord Renier will not come.

      Hassan. No word of him?

      Berengere. None, though he yesterday left Nicosie

      With the priest Moro.

      Hassan. Lady —

      Berengere. Wait no longer.

      Come, women, with your lamps and light the way.

      [The women go by the steps. Berengere follows.

      Hassan (staring after her). The reason of this mood in her? the reason?

      Something is vile. Lady Yolanda weeps

      In secret; all for what? By God! the Paphian?

      Or she of Venice? (sees Smarda). Now slave! Scythian!

      Why do you linger?

      Smarda. I am bidden – (snarls) by

      My mistress.

      Hassan. Spa! Thy mistress hath, I think,

      Something of hell in her and has unpacked

      A portion in this castle. Is it so?

      Smarda. My lady is of Venice.

      Hassan. Strike her, God.

      Her smirk admits it.

      Smarda. Touch me not!

      Hassan. I'll wring

      Your tongue out sudden, if it now has lies.

      What of your lady and lord Renier?

      Smarda. Off!

      Renier enters behind, with Moro.

      Hassan. Your lady and lord Renier, I say!

      What do they purpose?

      Smarda. Fool-born! look around.

      Hassan. Not till —

      Smarda. Lord Renier, help.

      Hassan. What do you say?

      [Turns, and stares amazed.

      A fool I am …

      Renier. Where is my wife?

      Hassan. Why, she …

      This slave stung me to pry.

      Renier. Where is my wife?

      Hassan. A moment since she left – the women with her.

      She asked for your return.

      Renier. And wherefore did?

      Hassan. You jeer me.

      Renier. Answer.

      Hassan. Have you not been gone?

      Renier. Not – overfar. Where is Yolanda? – Well?

      No matter; find my chamber till I come.

      Of my arrival, too, no word to any.

      [Hassan goes, confused.

      You, Moro, have deferred me; now, I move.

      Whether it is suspicion eats in me,

      Mistrust and fret and doubt

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