XLIV.

See, as they creep along the river side, How she doth whisper to that aged Dame, And, after looking round the champaign wide, Shows her a knife.--"What feverous hectic flame Burns in thee, child?--What good can thee betide, That thou should'st smile again?"--The evening came, 350 And they had found Lorenzo's earthy bed; The flint was there, the berries at his head.