COUNT. Good mother, happy was the prodigal son, For he return'd to the rich father; I But add my poverty to thine. And all Thro' following of my fancy. Pray thee make Thy slender meal out of those scraps and shreds Filippo spoke of. As for him and me, There sprouts a salad in the garden still. (_To the Falcon_?) Why didst thou miss thy quarry yester-even? To-day, my beauty, thou must dash us down Our dinner from the skies. Away, Filippo! [_Exit, followed by_ FILIPPO. ELISABETTA. I knew it would come to this. She has beggared him. I always knew it would come to this! (_Goes up to table as if to resume darning, and looks out of window_.) Why, as I live, there is Monna Giovanna coming down the hill from the castle. Stops and stares at our cottage. Ay, ay! stare at it: it's all you have left us. Shame upon you! She beautiful! sleek as a miller's mouse! Meal enough, meat enough, well fed; but beautiful--bah! Nay, see, why she turns down the path through our little vineyard, and I sneezed three times this morning. Coming to visit my lord, for the first time in her life too! Why, bless the saints! I'll be bound to confess her love to him at last. I forgive her, I forgive her! I knew it would come to this--I always knew it must come to this! (_Going up to door during latter part of speech and opens it_.) Come in, Madonna, come in. (_Retires to front of table and curtseys as the_ LADY GIOVANNA _enters, then moves chair towards the hearth_.) Nay, let me place this chair for your ladyship. [LADY GIOVANNA _moves slowly down stage, then crosses to chair, looking about her, bows as she sees the Madonna over fireplace, then sits in chair_. LADY GIOVANNA. Can I speak with the Count? ELISABETTA. Ay, my lady, but won't you speak with the old woman first, and tell her all about it and make her happy? for I've been on my knees every day for these half-dozen years in hope that the saints would send us this blessed morning; and he always took you so kindly, he always took the world so kindly. When he was a little one, and I put the bitters on my breast to wean him, he made a wry mouth at it, but he took it so kindly, and your ladyship has given him bitters enough in this world, and he never made a wry mouth at you, he always took you so kindly-- which is more than I did, my lady, more than I did--and he so handsome--and bless your sweet face, you look as beautiful this morning as the very Madonna her own self--and better late than never-- but come when they will--then or now--it's all for the best, come when they will--they are made by the blessed saints--these marriages. [_Raises her hands_. LADY GIOVANNA. Marriages? I shall never marry again! ELISABETTA (_rises and turns_). Shame on her then! LADY GIOVANNA. Where is the Count? ELISABETTA. Just gone To fly his falcon.