Scene V.—A Banquetting Hall.
Provençal Nobles assembled.
1 Noble. Joy be to this fair meeting!—Who hath seen
The viceroy's bride ?
2 Noble. I saw her, as she pass'd
The gazing throngs assembled in the city.
'Tis said she hath not left for years, till now,
Her castle's wood-girt solitude. 'Twill gall
These proud Sicilians, that her wide domains
Should be the conqueror's guerdon.
3 Noble. 'Twas their boast
With what fond faith she worshipp'd still the name
Of the boy, Conradin. How will the slaves
Brook this new triumph of their lords?
2 Noble. In sooth
It stings them to the quick. In the full streets
They mix with our Provençals, and assume
A guise of mirth, but it sits hardly on them.
'Twere worth a thousand festivals, to see
With what a bitter and unnatural effort
They strive to smile!
1 Noble. Is this Vittoria fair?
2 Noble. Of a most noble mien; but yet her beauty
Is wild and awful, and her large dark eye,
In its unsettled glances, hath strange power,
From which thou'lt shrink, as I did.
1 Noble. Hush! they come.
