_Scene._--_An audience hall in the castle of CHARLES DI TOCCA; the next
afternoon. The dark stained walls have been festooned with vines and
flowers. On the left is the ducal throne. On the right sunlight through
high-set windows. In the rear heavily draped doors. Enter CHARLES, who
looks around and smiles with subtle content, then summons a servant._
_Enter servant._
CHARLES: The princess Fulvia.
SERVANT: She comes, sir, now.
(_Goes._
_Enter FULVIA._
FULVIA: My lord, flowers and vines upon these walls
That seem always in dismal memory
And mist of grief? What means it?
CHARLES: That sprung up,
A greedy multitude upon the fields,
Citron and olive were left hungry, so
I quelled them!
FULVIA: Magic ever dwells in flowers
To waft me back to childhood. (_Taking some._)
Poor pluckt buds
If they could speak like children torn from the breast.
CHARLES: You're full of sighs and pity then?
FULVIA: Yes, and--
Of doubt.
CHARLES: What so divides you?
FULVIA: Helena--
This Greek--I do not understand.
CHARLES: Nor guess?
You have not seen nor spoken to her?
FULVIA: No.
CHARLES: We'll have her. (_Motions servant._)
Go. Say that we wait her here,
The lady Helena. (_Servant goes._
She's frighted--thinks
'Tmay be her father found too deep a rest
Within our care: yet has a hope that holds
The tears still from her lids. I've smiled on her,
Smiled, Fulvia, and she--Why do you cloud?
FULVIA: I would this were undone.
CHARLES: Undone? Undone?
You would it were----?
_Enter HELENA._
Ah, Greek! Our Fulvia,
Who is as heart and health about our doors,
Has speech for you. And polities
Untended groan for me. (_He goes._