Rosso.

At your service, father.

Man. May I speak with thee?

Ros. With pleasure.

Man. Stand we aside. Hast thou forgotten me?

Ros. Nay, for I think I have never seen thee ... or I ask thy pardon.

Man. Now thou shouldst know me well.

Ros. Thy voice I think I do remember.

Man. (discovering). Do you know me now?

Ros. Manuel! Thank God!

Man. Is it a good disguise?

Ros. Metamorphosis ... if indeed ’tis thou, In such a husk. Then thou’rt nót drowned!

Man. Indeed, There was a time when I had some fear to be; But how came you to know it?

Ros. Of the ships One returned home with news that thine was sunk. Was not that true?

Man. Ay, ay,

Ros. How didst thou ’scape?

Man. I took my only chance, leapt overboard And swam to the enemy. By heavenly fortune The ship that ran us down was Raymond’s, he Who served so long with us. I had left my foes To find old friends: and when the fight was o’er, I told him in what hapless case I stood, And promising to hold myself no less His prisoner, and surrender to his master At Naples if need were, I bade him land me By night at Cefaledi; there arrived, By the good sailor friars I was clad In the disguise you see, and came in speed To look to matters here.

Ros. There is great need.

Man. Ay, my affairs with Constance?

Ros. I grieve to tell Constance is lying ill.

Man. She is in your hands?

Ros. Ay.

Man. Doth she doubt of me?

Ros. At your committal A fever must have seized her. Then your death, Which should have been concealed, was urged upon her, In countenance of duke Philip’s suit ...

Man. How? Philip!

Ros. Did you not guess?

Man. Is’t possible?

Ros. At that Her mind gave way: ’tis question of her life.

Man. I bring the medicine to work her cure. Is’t not enough?

Ros. I trust so.

Man. And I think it. How blind I have been! I trusted Philip, and he Was playing against me. Time will right me, Rosso, In this as in the other. Patience. And what Of your affairs ...

Ros. How mine?

Man. Your love affairs.

Ros. My love affairs?

Man. Ay,—Margaret.

Ros. Margaret?

Man. Can I be wrong? Her head was turned the day She brought you to Palicio.

Ros. O, Manuel, This makes it sure.

Man. Yes, and I’m glad of it.

Ros. Nay, nay: pray hear me. On the very day Palicio left your house, she went, ’twas said, To Monreale: there she hath not been seen. Was’t to Palicio?

Man. Now, please God, thou’rt wrong. Say, where is he?

Ros. Stranger than all, he has made Surrender of himself to Livio, Our new justiciary, and awaits his death In Hugo’s dungeon.

Man. How! And Margaret?

Ros. She hath now this morn returned, full of distraction As well might be, but firm beyond her wont. She is in the palace, where she nurses Constance With the cool skill of one that hath his stake Ventured elsewhere ...

Mar. Good God! Now if thou’rt right, Rosso, this matter needs me more than the other. Thank heaven I am here. Constance is in thy hands: Thou hast her cure. Yet use it with discretion, Knowing my hazard. I shall visit at once The archbishop; he will stand my friend, and give me Commission in the habit of a priest To see Palicio. Nay, there’s not a moment To lose. Thou mayst contrive that Constance too Should send for me; maybe I thus might see her. Farewell. I go, yet must I take a name; Let it be Thomas, father Thomas. To-night Can I rest at thy house?

Ros. I pray you will.

Man. An hour hence couldst thou meet me there?

Ros. I will. God speed you.

Man. O, Rosso, Rosso, I fear thou’rt right ...

[Exit.

Ros. Ay, ay. I’m right. Alas for Manuel. ’Tis almost pity he is escaped from death. I would tell Constance, but her throbbing brain Hath no interpreter, and in her ear All words are meaningless, or mean alike Something insane, which in her eager dreaming Steals the world’s place. I have no power to tell.

[Exit.