|
Page 33
"'I do not woo her,
child,' he said, 'she has
Wooers to suit her better: she and I
Know that our ways go separate through the world.
I prize her lightly, pleasantly; she laughs,
And likes me but too well, poor butterfly;
But talk of love to her! I could as soon
Play lover to your kitten frisking there.'
"I said, 'For me, I never shall care more
To whom you play the lover, you who put
Your open slight upon me, you who go
In the eyes of all the world the daily page
Of a light actress.'
"'Lota no,' he urged,
'They lied who told you so. I can count up
How often I have seen her since she came
This year to Venice, on one hand - four times
Or five in nearly twice the weeks. But yet
I blush before your anger; I did put
A slight on you for which I hate myself.
But you, you must not hate me. Oh! my wife,
Bear with me, I have little earned your love
But I will put my whole life in your hands
And you shall rule it for me.'
"'Nay,' I said,
'I leave that to the woman who came here
And told me she was more to you than I,
And she would teach you how to trample me;
I leave you to her, she is glorious
In wicked beauty, I am but a girl
With everyday girl's brightness, and she says
I have not mind enough to sin ... like her.'
"He looked at me with a white awful face,
As if a horror took him. Do you mean
She came to you? Olympia?'
"'Yes,' I said,
'The countess came to me, forgave me. I
Forgive not her, nor you.'
Next ...
|
