of goodness to accept
The present moment. I will come to-morrow,
At the same hour, in some more fitting garb.
Your hand, sir, and farewell. Salute for me,
I pray you, the signora. May I not hope
To see and thank her for her grace to me,
In so adorning my poor feast?

RIBERA.
The debt is ours.
She may be here to-morrow--she is free,
She only, while I work, to come and go.
Pray, sir, allow her--she is never crossed.
I stoop to beg for her--she is the last
Who bides with me--I crave you pardon, sir;
What should this be to you?

DON JOHN.
'T is much to me,
Whose privilege has been in this rare hour,
Beneath the master to discern the man,
And thus add friendship unto admiration.
[He presses RIBERA'S hand and is about to pick up his mantle and
hat. LUCA springs forward, and, while he is throwing the cloak
around the Princes's shoulders, enter hastily MARIA, enveloped in
her mantilla, as she went to church.]

MARIA.
Well, father, an I veiled and swathed to suit you,
To cross the Strada?
[She throws off her mantilla and appears all in white. She goes
to embrace her father, when she suddenly perceives the Prince, and
stands speechless and blushing.]

RIBERA.
Child, his Royal Highness
Prince John of Austria.

DON JOHN.
Good-day, signora.
Already twice my gracious stars have smiled.
I saw you in the street. You wore your mantle,
As the noon sun might wear a veil of cloud,
Covering, but not concealing.

MARIA.
I, sir, twice
Have unaware stood in your royal presence.
You are welcome to my father's home and mine.
I scarce need crave your pardon for my entrance;
Yourself must see how well assured I felt
My father was alone.

DON JOHN.
And so you hoped
To find him--shall I read your answer thus?

RIBERA.
Nay, press her not. Your Highness does her wrong,
So harshly to construe her simpleness.
My daughter and myself are one, and both
Will own an equal pleasure if you bide.

DON JOHN (seating himself).
You chain me with kind words.

MARIA.
My father, sir,
Hath surely told you our delight and marvel
At the enchantments of your f