CHARLES: You've touched
And led me trembling from reality!
Those curtains?--those?--just those?--You shall not go.
FULVIA: I will not then.
CHARLES: But something breaks from you,
And as an air of resurrection stirs.
Speak; on your words I wait unutterably.
FULVIA: Did not a soldier lately come, my lord,
Breathless with eager speech of mutiny----?
CHARLES: Well--well----?
FULVIA: Within your guard?
CHARLES: My guard? No--yes----
What do I see yet cannot in your words?
FULVIA: The mutiny was roused at my command.
CHARLES: Say it--say all!
FULVIA: To save you the mad blot
Of a son's blood.
CHARLES: Antonio----?
FULVIA: Lives!
CHARLES: Low--low----
Joy come too furious has piercing peril.
He lives?--You have done this? With these soft hands,
These little hands, held off the shears of Fate?
Have dared? and have not feared?
FULVIA: Your danger was
My fear--that, and no more.
CHARLES: He lives?--I have
No worth, no gratitude, no gift that may
Answer this deed--no glow, no eloquence
But would ring poor in rarest words of earth.
He lives?--Years yet are mine. Too brief they'll be
To muse with love of this!
FULVIA: No, no, my lord.
CHARLES: But where is he? Belief, tho' risen, strains
In me as if 'twere fast in cerements
That seeing must unbind.
FULVIA: Turn then, and see.
(_ANTONIO steps from the curtains._)
CHARLES: Antonio!--boy! boy!