BRIGITTA.
And he was there to-night?
FIORDELISA.
Oh, yes! He offered me the holy water
As I passed in. I trembled so, Brigitta,
When our hands met, I fear he must have marked it,
But that he seemed almost as trembling, too,
As I was.
BRIGITTA.
He! a brazen popinjay,
I'll warrant me, for all his downcast looks!
I wonder how my master would endure
To hear of such audacious goings on!
FIORDELISA.
That makes me sad. My father is so kind,
I cannot bear to have a secret from him.
Sometimes I feel as I would tell him all;
But then, I think, perhaps he would forbid me
From going out to church; and 't is so dull
To be shut up here all the long bright day:
From morn till dark, to mark the busy stir
Under the window, and the happy voices
Of holiday-makers, that go out and in
Just as they please. Look at the birds, Brigitta!
Their wings are free, yet no harm comes to them;
I'm sure they're innocent! And then to hear
Sometimes the trumpets, as the knights ride by,
And tramp of armed men; [Lute sounds without.] sometimes a lute.
Hark! 't is his lute! I know the air, how sweet!
My good Brigitta, would there be much harm
If I touched mine, only a little touch,
To tell him I am listening?
