RIBERA.
Aye, to bid good-night.
Why do you kiss me ? To betray to-morrow ?
ANNICCA.
Dear father, you are better ; you have slept.
Are you not rested ?
RIBERA.
Child, I was not weary.
There was some cloud pressed here (pointing to his forehead) but that is past.
I have no pain nor any sense of ill.
Now, while my brain is clear, I have a word
To speak. I think not I have been to thee,
Nor to that other one, an unkind father.
I do not now remember any act,
Or any word of mine, could cause thee grief.
But I am old perchance my memory
Deceives in this ? Speak ! Am I right, Annicca ?
ANNICCA (weeping).
Oh, father, father, why will you torture me ?
You were too good, too good.
RIBERA.
Why, so I thought.
Since it appears the guerdon of such goodness
Is treachery, abandonment, disgrace,