DIANORA. Sh! Footsteps! No, it is so much too soon--And yet--and yet--[_long waiting_] they come. [_Pause._] They do not come-- Oh, no, they do not come--They're shuffling steps, They shuffle down the vineyard--now they reel-- There are the steps! A drunkard, verily! Stay in the street, intoxicated one. What would you do within our garden gates?-- No moon shines here to-night--were there a moon I were not here--no, no, I were not here. The little stars are flick'ring restlessly, They cannot light the way for a drunken one, But one not drunken from a musty wine. His footsteps are as light as wind on grass And surer than the tread of the young lion. [_Pause._] These hours are martyrdom! No, no, no, no, They're not--no, they are beautiful and good, And lovely and so sweet! He comes, he comes; A long, long way already he has walked-- The last tall tree down there has seen him come--- It could--if that dark strip of woodland boughs Did not obscure the road--and 'twere not dark-- [_Pause._] He comes--as certainly as I do now Upon this hook bend this frail ladder--comes. As surely as I now do let it down In rustling murmur in the leaves enmeshed, As certainly as it now swaying hangs, Quivering softly as I bend me low, Myself aquiver with a greater thrill-- [_She remains for a long time bent over the balustrade. Suddenly she seems to hear the curtain between her balcony and the room thrown back. She turns her head and her features are distorted in deathly fear and terror. Messer Braccio stands silently in the door. He wears a simple, dark green robe, carries no weapons--his shoes are low. He is very tall and strong. His face resembles the portraits of aristocrats and captains of mercenaries. He has an extremely large forehead and small dark eyes, closely cropped, curly black hair and a small beard that covers his cheeks and chin._] DIANORA [_wants to speak, but is unable to utter a sound_]. MESSER BRACCIO [_beckons to her to pull up the ladder_]. DIANORA [_does so like an automaton and drops the bundle, as in a trance, at her feet_]. BRACCIO [_looks at her quietly, reaches with his right hand to his left hip, also with his left hand; notices that he has no dagger. He moves his lips impatiently, glances toward the garden, then over his shoulders. He lifts his right hand for a moment and examines his palm, then walks firmly and quickly back into the room_]. DIANORA [_looks after him incessantly; she cannot take her eyes away from him. As the curtain closes behind his retreating form, she passes her fingers excitedly over her face and through her hair, then folds her hands and murmurs a prayer, her lips wildly convulsed. Then she throws her arms backwards and folds them above the stone pillar, in a gesture that indicates a desperate resolve and a triumphant expectancy_].