If my obedience and blameless life, To use no violence, nor do in haste Cruz. I will not leave thee here in the great city To be a grandee's mistress. Make thee ready To go from me. I told the traveller's fortune in the street; The smuggler's horse, the brigand, and the shepherd; The march across the moor; the halt at noon; The red fire of the evening camp, that lighted The forest where we slept; and farther back, As in a dream, or in some former life, Gardens and palace walls. Arch. 'Tis the Alhambra, Under whose towers the Gipsy camp was pitched. But the time wears; and we would see thee dance. Prec. Your grace shall be obeyed. (She lays aside her mantilla. The music of the cachucha is played, and the dance begins. The ARCHBISHOP and the CARDINAL look on with gravity and an occasional frown; then make signs to each other; and, as the dance continues, become more and more excited; and at length rise from their seats, throw their caps in the air, and applaud vehemently as the scene closes.) SCENE III.-The Prado. A long avenue of trees leading to the gate of A tocha. On the right the dome and spires of a convent. A fountain. Evening. DON CARLOS and HYPOLITO meeting. Hyp. Hyp. And amen! said my Cid Cam- Don C. Pray, how much need you? Hyp. Some half dozen ounces. Which, with due interestDon C. (giving his purse). What, am I a Jew, To put my moneys out at usury? Hyp. Thank you. A pretty purse, Made by the hand of some fair Madrileňa; Perhaps a keepsake? Don C. No; 'tis at your service. good Chrysostom, And with thy golden mouth remind me Don C. Jesting aside, who is it? Preciosa. Don C. Impossible! The Count of Lara tells me She is not virtuous. Hyp. Whose name was Messalina, as I think; Walking as in a dream. That money, grief, and love cannot be hidden. (Enter VICTORIAN in front.) Vict. Where'er thy step has passed is holy ground. These groves are sacred! I behold thee walking Under these shadowy trees, where we have walked Prec. Even you, fair Preciosa, here at court Once more I beg you, leave me to myself. Lara. I thought it but a friendly part to tell you What strange reports are current here in town. For my own self, I do not credit them; But there are many who, not knowing you, Will lend a readier ear. There was no need should take upon yourself the duty Of telling me these tales. Lara. Malicious tongues Are ever busy with your name. Prec. Alas! I have no protectors. I am a poor girl, Exposed to insults and unfeeling jests. They wound me, yet I cannot shield myself. I give no cause for these reports. I live Retired; am visited by none. Lara. By none? |