FIORDELISA.
Dear father!
Would he were here that I might rest my head
Upon his breast, and have his arms about me;
For then I feel there's something I may love
And not be chidden for it. [Lute sounds.] Hark! again.
If I durst answer!
How sad he must be out there in the dark,
Not knowing if I mark his music.
[Takes her lute, then puts it away.
No!
My father would be angry; sad enough,
To have one joy I may not share with him;
Yet there can be no harm in listening.
I thought to-night he would have spoken to me,
But then Brigitta came, and he fell back!
I'm glad he did not speak, and yet I'm sorry,
I should so like to hear his voice, just once.
He comes in my dreams, now, but he never speaks.
I'm sure 't is soft and sweet! [Listening.] His lute is hushed.
What if I touch mine, now that he is gone?
I must not look out of the casement! Yes,
I'm sure he's gone?
[Takes her lute and strikes a chord, L.
MANFREDI (aside, lifting the arras).
She is worth ten Ginevras!
TORELLI (holding him back).
Not yet!
MANFREDI.
Unhand me, I will speak to her!
[Bertuccio appears at the door, R. 2 E.