More still and snowy round her than the folds
Of her white veil. And when she rose, I rose
And followed her, like one drawn by a charm,
To a mean house, where entering, she was lost.
MANFREDI.
She was alone?
DELL' AQUILA.
Only a shrewish servant
That saw her to the church, and saw her home.
MANFREDI.
A most weak wolf-dog for so choice a lamb!
DELL' AQUILA.
Methought, my lord, she needed no more guard
Than the innocence that sat, dove-like, in her eyes,
That shaped the folding of her delicate hands,
And timed the movement of her gentle feet.
MANFREDI.
You spoke to her?
DELL' AQUILA.
I dared not; some strange shame
Put weight upon my tongue. I only watched her,
And sometimes heard her sing. That was enough.
MANFREDI.
Poets are easy satisfied. Well, you watched?
DELL' AQUILA.
And then I found that I was not alone
Upon my nightly post: there were two more;
One stayed outside, like me, and one went in.
