DON JOHN.
’T is much to me,
Whose privilege has been in this rare hour,
Beneath the master to discern the man,
And thus add friendship unto admiration.
[He presses RIBERA S hand and is about to pick up his mantle and hat. LUCA springs forward, and, while he is throwing the cloak around the Prince’s shoulders, enter hastily MARIA, enveloped in her mantilla, as she went to church.
MARIA.
Well, father, am I veiled and swathed to suit you,
To cross the Strada ?
[She throws off her mantilla and appears all in white. She goes to embrace her father, when she suddenly perceives the Prince, and stands speechless and blushing.
RIBERA.
Child, his Royal Highness
Prince John of Austria.
DON JOHN.
Good-day, signora.
Already twice my gracious stars have smiled.
I saw you in the street. You wore your mantle,
As the noon sun might wear a veil of cloud,
Covering, but not concealing.
