Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/299

Rh Sir, that word Is the most grateful you have spoken yet. Why art thou silent, daughter?

What should I say? The Prince is kind. I scarcely heard your words. I listened to your voices, and I mused.

I overstep your patience. What have I said ?

You will be gone?

You are a child, Maria. To-morrow I will wait your Highness.

Thanks. To-morrow noon. Farewell, signora. [Exit DON JOHN.

What ails you, daughter ? You forget yourself. Your tongue cleaves to your mouth. You sit and muse,