Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/283

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269

THE SPAGNOLETTO.

MARIA (rising hastily).

Signer Lorenzo!
Again what would you with me?

LORENZO. No such suit
As late I proffered, but your gracious pardon.

MARIA. Rise, sir, forgiven. I, too, have been to blame,
Although less deeply than you deemed. For bear
To bind your life. I feel myself unworthy
Of that high station where your thoughts enthrone me.
Yet I dare call myself your friend.
[Offering him her hand, which LORENZO presses to his lips.

LORENZO. Thanks, thanks!
Be blessed, and farewell. [Exit.

Enter Ribera, calling.

Daughter! Maria!

MARIA.

Why, father, I am here (kissing him). Goodday. What will you?

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