SCENE II.
A room in DON TOMMASO S house. DON TOMMASO and ANNICCA.
DON TOMMASO.
Truly, you wrong your sister ; she is young,
Heedless, and wilful, that is all ; a touch
Of the Ribera s spirit fired the lass.
Don John was but her weapon of revenge
Against the malice of our haughty matrons,
Who hurled their icy shafts of scorn from heights
Of dignity upon the artist s daughter.
ANNICCA.
I cannot think with you. In her demeanor,
Her kindled cheek, her melting eye, was more
Than sly revenge or cautious policy.
If that was art, it overreached itself.
Ere the night ended, I had blushed to see
Slighting regards cast on my father’s child,
And hear her name and his tossed lightly round.
DON TOMMASO.
Could you not read in such disparagement
The envy of small natures ?
ANNICCA.
I had as lief
Maria were to dance the tarantella
