o._ It will not.

_Renier._ Then at least I shall uncover
What this Venetian hints.

_Moro._ Sir?

_Renier._ I must know.

_Moro._ 'Tis of your wife?--Yolanda?

_Renier._ Name them not.
They've shut me from their souls.

_Moro._ My lord, not so;
But you repulse them.

_Renier._ When they pity. No,
Something has gone from me or never was
Within my breast. I love not--am unlovable.
Amaury is not so.
And this Venetian Vittia Pisani----

_Moro._ Distrust her!

_Renier._ She has power.

_Moro._ But not truth.
And yesterday a holy relic scorned.

_Renier._ She loves Amaury. Wed to her he will
Be the elected Governor of Cyprus.
The throne, then, but a step.

_Moro._ But all too great.
And think; Yolanda is to him as heaven:
He will not yield her.

_Renier._ Then he must. And she,
The Venetian, has ways to it--a secret
To wrench her from his arms.

_Moro._ Sir, sir?--of what?

_Renier._ I know not, of some shame.

_Moro._ Shame!

_Renier._ Why do you clutch me?

_Moro._ I--am a priest--and shame----

_Renier._ You show suspicions.

[VITTIA _enters unnoted._

Of whom?--Of whom, and what?

_Vittia_ (_lightly_). My lord, of women.

[RENIER _starts and turns._

So does the Holy Church instil him.

_Renier._ You
Come softly, lady of Venice.

_Vittia._ Streets of sea
In Venice teach us.

_Renier._ Of what women, then?
My wife? Yolanda?

_Vittia._ By the freedom due us,
What matters it? In Venice our lords know
That beauty has no master.

_Renier._ Has no.... That,
That too has something hid.

_Vittia._ Suspicious lord!
Yet Berengere Lusignan is his wife!
And soon Yolanda--But for that I'm here.
You sent for me.

_Renier_ (_sullen_). I sent.

_Vittia._ To say you've chosen?
And offer me irrevocable a