"...You know," Emilia whispered breathlessly, for it was all she could think of to say. She did not know how it made her feel. Relieved, perhaps, for her own sake, but she could not stand to see her husband in such a sorry state… He had taken his hand from her cheek and she considered restoring the contact, but it did not seem meet nor wise, so she checked the impulse.
What it has wrought. The words made her feel somewhat lightheaded, for she herself did not know what had happened as the result of her confession to the general. But it did not take much wit to know that whatever it was, it was not a particularly good thing, and Iago, poor Iago, hunched over and turned away with his face in his hands-he showed a hundred fearful portents. Emilia gripped the edge of her shawl and ran her fingers through her hair anxiously. Othello had promised he would not forget her in his punishment of Iago, she told herself. Othello was a good man. An honest man, a faithful man, a man who could be trusted...
"...Iago," Emilia said softly, reaching toward him with trembling fingers and laying them delicately upon his shoulder, "Iago… I do not...I do not know what… Can you bear to tell me what has…"
The words refused to come in her tongue's denial, leaving Emilia to stammer like an affrighted child. Certainly Othello would not be so cruel. If Iago had been demoted...
"...Iago, what has happened?" she managed to whisper finally, knowing full well that she might not even receive an answer, horribly grieved as he was. She waited for him to speak, though she feared that she already knew what he would (or would not) tell her. If Iago had been demoted...why, she did not think he would be able to bear it. She remembered only too well how sullen, how volatile Iago had been toward her when they had discovered that Cassio had been promoted to lieutenant, and not he. How much worse would it be for him now, to not even be able to hold the position of ensign for all his years of service? Why, looking at him at this moment, so despondent that he appeared to be unable to bear his own weight, Emilia did not know that the man wouldn't slip away and incontinently drown himself as soon as she fell asleep! If not his physical death (for that was, though worrying, still somewhat fanciful), certainly Emilia feared the death of his sanity, troubled as he had been all this time… She continued to look upon him with a wide-eyed fervor, as if she might never see her husband again.