RIBERA. What coupled staring fools were they that passed? They seemed to scare thee. Why, boy, face them out. I am the shadow of the Spagnoletto, Else had I brooked no gaze so insolent. Well, I will go with thee. But, hark thee, lad; A word first in thine ear. 'T is a grim secret; Whisper it not in Naples; I but tell thee, Lest thou should fancy I had lost my wits. My daughter hath deserted me--hath fled From Naples with a bastard. Thou hast seen her, Maria-Rosa--thou must remember her; She, whom I painted as Madonna once. She had fair hair and Spanish eyes. When was it? I came forth thinking I might meet with her And find all this a dream--a foolish thought! I am very weary. (Yawning.) I have walked and walked For hours. How far, sir, stand we from the Strada Nardo? I live there, nigh Saint Francis' church. LORENZO. Why, 't is hard by; a stone's throw from this square. So, lean on me--you are not well. This way. Pluck up good heart, sir; we shall soon be there. [Exeunt.] SCENE V. Night. A Room in RIBERA'S House. ANNICCA seated alone, in an attitude of extreme weariness and despondency. ANNICCA. His heavy sleep still lasts. Despite the words Of the physician, I can cast not off That ghastly fear. Albeit he owned no drugs, This deathlike slumber, this deep breathing slow, His livid pallor makes me dread each moment His weary pulse will cease. This is the end, And from the first I knew it. The worst evil My warning tongue had wrought were joy to this. No heavier curse could I invoke on her Than that she see him in her dreams, her thoughts, As he is now. I could no longer bear it; I have fled hither from his couch to breathe-- To quicken my spent courage for the end. I cannot pray--my heart is full of curses. He sleeps; he rests. What better could I wish For his rent heart, his stunned, unbalanced brain, Than sleep to be eternally prolonged? Enter FIAMETTA. ANNICCA looks up anxiously, half rising. ANNICCA. How now? What news? FIAMETTA. The master is awake And calls for you, signora. ANNICCA. Heaven be praised! [Exit hastily.] FIAMETTA. Would I had followed my young mistress! Here I creep about like a scared, guilty thing, And fancy at each moment they will guess 'T was I who led her to the hut. I will confess, If any sin there be, to Father Clement, And buy indulgence with her golden chain. 'T would burn my throat, the master's rolling eyes Would haunt me ever, if I went to wear it. So, all will yet be well. [Exit.] SCENE VI.