92 
MORTADELLO 
 
With triple plates and rows of iron and brass. 
 
 
[MONICA and LUCREZIA go off. 
ALESSANDRO.  You must forgive, my lord, the weary after-
noon. 
I see that you are bored. 
MORTADELLO. 
No fault of yours ;  the boon 
I lack is just the laugh of subtle, swarthy-skinned, 
Coarse-haired, black-eyed, thin, half a gypsy, half a wind 
Of the stubborn South—you know. 
ALESSANDRO. 
You mean Zelina ? 
MORTADELLO. 
 
Yes. 
You knew her long ago.  Nay, man, no shame.  Confess. 
ALESSANDRO.  I’ll do the penance first.  Will you and she 
come dine 
With music unrehearsed to match the mood o’ the wine ? 
MORTADELLO.  Splendid. 
ALESSANDRO. 
Then I’ve got a girl to dance to the guitar : 
She saw the sand-storms whirl down South—God knows 
how far— 
And copies every twitch of their veiled fury of storm. 
A witch—a very witch ! 
MORTADELLO. 
Most excellent. 
ALESSANDRO. 
A form. 
Pure as a sylph’s, a soul like Satan’s—pride and lust, 
And something in the whole to humble to the dust 
I care not who.  She’s force, pure elemental rage 
Of love without remorse. 
MORTADELLO. 
The wonder of the age ! 
Indeed and I must see the little lady soon. 
ALESSANDRO.  I’ll send for her, trust me.  To-morrow’s the full 
moon