 | Antonia |  |
172
SCENE X.
Teresa and Ferdinando.TERESA.
What, Ferdinando! wherefore are you here?
Not gone to Florence, nor with Carravagio?
FERDINANDO.
I do not like that painter in this house.
TERESA.
No, Ferdinando!
FERDINANDO.
No. How does my lady?
TERESA.
Dejected; thoughtful; speaking not a word.
FERDINANDO.
If we were in some safe and secret place,
I would, Teresa, something say to you.—
But is my lady very sad indeed?
TERESA.
Have I not told you, almost wildly sad?
FERDINANDO.
She spoke with Carravagio, as I know.
TERESA.
She did. What of it; passing to her room?
FERDINANDO.
Were you not present when she spoke with him?
173
'Twas but a word or two, and quickly said.
FERDINANDO.
But what she said, you cannot truly tell?
TERESA.
Indeed, not I.
FERDINANDO.
Teresa.—
TERESA.
Well?
FERDINANDO.
Teresa;
You are a woman, knowing and observant.
I wish we were in some secluded room;
Where no intrusion might break in upon us.—
How did the painter look when you saw him?
TERESA.
He pitied much the countess.
FERDINANDO.
Pitied!
These artists sure, are men of subtile craft.
He pitied?
TERESA.
Ay!
FERDINANDO.
What did he know to pity?
I went last night into our lady's room.—
174
You told me so;—a daring shame it was.
FERDINANDO.
Well; have you learnt though, if she heard me speak?
TERESA.
I did.
FERDINANDO.
What said she?
Lookt like one that kens
Dread things, invisible to mortal sight.—
Just like Paulina in the picture there,
When told her love was not the God Anubis,
Pale agonized, almost foregone in mind.
FERDINANDO.
Think you the painter knows that I was there?
It may be good for him to turn on me.
This is a matter that cannot long hide:
Let you and I, Teresa, council keep;—
Have all our eyes and all our ears set open.
These men of art do other things at night,
Than watch the moon-light as it, brightening, falls
On busts and statues in a gallery.
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