"Is one day more so long to wait? Moreover the Duke rides past, I know; We shall see each other, sure as fate."
She turned on her side and slept. Just so! So we resolve on a thing and sleep: So did the lady, ages ago.
That night the Duke said, "Dear or cheap As the cost of this cup of bliss may prove To body or soul, I will drain it deep."
And on the morrow, bold with love, He beckoned the bridegroom (close on call, As his duty bade, by the Duke's alcove)
And smiled "Twas a very funeral, Your lady will think, this feast of ours,-- A shame to efface, whate'er befall!"
"What if we break from the Arno bowers, And try if Petraja, cool and green, Cure last night's fault with this morning's flowers?"
The bridegroom, not a thought to be seen On his steady brow and quiet mouth, Said, "Too much favor for me so mean!"
"But, alas! my lady leaves the South; Each wind that comes from the Apennine Is a menace to her tender youth:"
"Nor a way exists, the wise opine, If she quits her palace twice this year, To avert the flower of life's decline."
Quoth the Duke, "A sage and a kindly fear. Moreover Petraja is cold this spring: Be our feast to-night as usual here!"
And then to himself--"Which night shall bring Thy bride to her lover's embraces, fool-- Or I am the fool, and thou art the king!"
"Yet my passion must wait a night, nor cool-- For to-night the Envoy arrives from France Whose heart I unlock with thyself, my tool."
"I need thee still and might miss perchance To-day is not wholly lost, beside, With its hope of my lady's countenance:"
"For I ride--what should I do but ride? And passing her palace, if I list, May glance at its window--well betide!"
So said, so done: nor the lady missed One ray that broke from the ardent brow, Nor a curl of the lips where the spirit kissed.
Be sure that each renewed the vow, No morrow's sun should arise and set And leave them then as it left them now.
But next day passed, and next day yet, With still fresh cause to wait one day more Ere each leaped over the parapet.
And still, as love's brief morning wore, With a gentle start, half smile, half sigh, They found love not as it seemed before.
They thought it would work infallibly, But not in despite of heaven and earth: The rose would blow when the storm passed by.