But Palma is young, and in the midst of her politics she retains passion, sentiment, tenderness and charm.

She dreams of some soul beyond her own, who, coming, should call on all the force in her character; enable her, in loving him, to give consummation to her work for Italy; and be himself the hand and sword of her mind.

Therefore she held herself in leash till the right man came, till she loved.

"Waits he not," her heart cries, and mixes him with coming Spring: Waits he not the waking year?
His almond blossoms must be honey-ripe By this; to welcome him, fresh runnels stripe The thawed ravines; because of him, the wind Walks like a herald.

I shall surely find Him now.
She finds him in Sordello, and summons him, when the time is ripe, to Verona.