You will comfort me with a lock of Camillo's hair, that I may have it on my breast to-night, and dream, and wail, and writhe, and curse the air I breathe, and clasp the abominable emptiness like a thousand Camillos.

Speak!' The dagger is seen gleaming up Michiella's wrist; she steps on in a bony triangle, faced for mischief: a savage Hunnish woman, with the hair of a Goddess--the figure of a cat taking to its forepaws.

Close upon Camilla she towers in her whole height, and crying thrice, swift as the assassin trebles his blow, 'Speak,' to Camilla, who is fronting her mildly, she raises her arm, and the stilet flashes into Camilla's bosom.
'Die then, and outrage me no more.' Camilla staggers to her husband.

Camillo receives her falling.
Michiella, seized by Leonardo, presents a stiffened shape of vengeance with fierce white eyes and dagger aloft.

There are many shouts, and there is silence.
CAMILLA, supported by CAMILLO.
'If this is death, it is not hard to bear.
Your handkerchief drinks up my blood so fast It seems to love it.