Have darkened the fair fame of my white dove,
Naples shall rue it. Let them not forget
The chapel of Saint Januarius!
ANNICCA (aside).
Tommaso judged aright. I dare not tell him.
Dear father, listen. Pray, be calm. Sit down;
Your own hot rage engenders in my mind
Thoughts, fears, suspicions.
RIBERA (seating himself).
You are right, Annicca.
I am foolish, hasty ; but it makes me mad.
Listen to me. Here sits the Prince before me ;
We talk, we laugh. We have discussed all themes,
From the great Angelo s divinity,
Down to the pest of flies that fret us here
At the day s hottest. Sometimes he will pace
The studio such young blood is seldom still.
He brought me once his mandoline, and drew
Eloquent music thence. I study thus
The changeful play of soul. I catch the spirit
Behind the veil, and burn it on the plate.
Maria comes and goes will sit awhile
Over her broidery, then will haste away
And serve us with a dish of golden fruit.
That is for me ; she knows the sweet, cool juice,
After long hours of work, refreshes me
More than strong wine. She meets his Royal Highness
