I have unlearned love's very alphabet.
Men like us coy, demure ... Then I'll coquet
And play Madam Disdain--but not to-day.
To-morrow I'll be shrewish, shy, perverse,
Exacting, cold--all April in my moods:
We'll walk the forest, and I'll slip from him,
Hide me like Dryad 'mid the oaks, and mark
His hot dark face pursuing; or I'll couch
In covert green, and hold my breath to hear
His blundering foot go by; then up I'll leap,
And run--and he'll run after. O this lightness!
I'll draw him like a fairy, dance and double--
Yet not so fast but he shall overtake
At length, and catch me panting. O, I charge you,
I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem,
Wake not my love beneath the forest bough
Where we lie dreaming!

_[Fanfare of trumpets in the distance.]_

Trumpets, hark! and drums!
They have landed! From the quay they march!
Flowers! flowers!
They are near ... I see him!... Carlo! lord and love!
He looks--waves--O 'tis he! O foolish heart!--
I had feared he'd ta'en a wound.
What is't they shout?
Eh? 'Victory!'--yes, yes. He's browner, thinner;
And the dear eyes, how gaunt!... Yes
'Victory!'