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Al savio suol bastar poche parole, Disse Morgante: tu il potrai vedere, De' miei fratelli, Orlando, se mi duole, E s'io m'accordero di Dio al volere, Come tu di che in ciel servar si suole: Morti co' morti; or pensiam di godere: Io vo' tagliar le mani a tutti quanti, E porterolle a que' monaci santi."
Suddenly a succession of words broke upon the stillness breathless words, spoken in a language which not everybody could have translated. He recognized the voice. It said: "EGO TE AMARE TANTUM! NON VOLERE? NON PIACERE? NON CAPIRE? O Lord, can't you understand?" It was Mr. Marten's voice. Mr. Marten was being romantic. No answer came to his fervent pleadings. Perhaps they were not coherent enough.
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