Vict. Prec. (aside). "T is he! 'T is he! I thank thee, Heaven, that thou hast heard my prayer, And sent me this protector! Now be strong, Be strong, my heart! I must dissemble here. False friend or true? Vict. A true friend to the true; Fear not; come hither. So; can you tell fortunes? Prec. Not in the dark. Come nearer to the fire. Give me your hand. It is not crossed, No, 't is gold. Prec. There's a fair lady at the Court, who loves you, And for yourself alone. You are passionate; And this same passionate humor in your blood Has The marred your fortune. Yes; I see it now; line of life is crossed by many marks. Shame! shame! O you have wronged the maid who loved you! How could you do it? Vict. I never loved a maid; For she I loved was then a maid no more. Prec. How know you that? Vict. A little bird in the air Whispered the secret. Prec. There, take back your gold! Your hand is cold, like a deceiver's hand! There is no blessing in its charity! Make her your wife, for you have been abused; And you shall mend your fortunes, mending hers. Vict. (aside). How like an angel's speaks the tongue of woman, When pleading in another's cause her own! That is a pretty ring upon your fingerPray give it me. Prec. (Tries to take the ring.) No; never from my hand Shall that be taken! Vict. Why, 't is but a ring. I'll give it back to you; or, if I keep it, Will give you gold to buy you twenty such. Prec. Why would you have this ring? As a memento of the Gypsy camp But bid my nurse fold my pale fingers thus, That it may not fall from them. 'T is a token Of a beloved friend, who is no more. He is estranged! And yet I keep this ring. I will rise with it from my grave hereafter, To prove to him that I was never false. Vict. (aside). Be still, my swelling heart! one moment, still! Why, 't is the folly of a love-sick girl. Come, give it me, or I will say 't is mine, And that you stole it. Prec. O, you will not dare To utter such a falsehood! Vict. I not dare? Look in my face, and say if there is aught I have not dared, I would not dare for thee ! (She rushes into his arms.) Prec. 'Tis thou! 'tis thou! Yes; yes; my heart's elected! My dearest-dear Victorian! my soul's heaven! Where hast thou been so long? Why didst thou leave me ? Vict. Ask me not now, my dearest Preciosa. Let me forget we ever have been parted! me! Prec. I should have perished here among these Gypsies. Vict. Forgive me, sweet! for what I made thee suffer. Think'st thou this heart could feel a moment's joy, Thou being absent ? O, believe it Chispa (within). What ho! the GypHalloo! halloo ! halloo ! halloo! sies, ho! Beltran Cruzado ! (Enters booted, with a whip and lantern.) Vict. What now? Why such a fearful din? Hast thou been robbed? Chispa. Ay, robbed and murdered; and good evening to you, My worthy masters. Vict. Speak; what brings thee here? Chispa (to PRECIOSA). Good news from Court; good news! Beltran Cruzado, The Count of the Calés, is not your fa ther, But your true father has returned to Laden with wealth. You are no more a Vict. Strange as a Moorish tale! As wells drink in November, when it Vict. Where is the gentleman ? Chispa. As the old song says, His body is in Segovia, His soul is in Madrid. And probably they'll hang her for the crime, To make the celebration more complete. Vict. No; let it be a day of general joy; Fortune comes well to all, that comes Now let us join Don Carlos. So farewell, The student's wandering life! Sweet serenades, Sung under ladies' windows in the night, And all that makes vacation beautiful! Prec. Is this a dream? O, if it be a To you, ye cloistered shades of Alcalá, dream, Say that I do not dream! I am awake; This is the Gypsy camp; this is Victorian, And this his friend, Hypolito! Speak! speak! Let me not wake and find it all a dream! Vict. It is a dream, sweet child! a A blissful certainty, a vision bright Heaven gives to those it loves. Now As thou wast ever beautiful and good; To you, ye radiant visions of romance, The Bachelor Hypolito returns, SCENE VI. - A pass in the Guadarrama mountains. Early morning. A muleteer crosses the stage, sitting sideways on his mule, and lighting a paper cigar with flint and steel. SONG. If thou art sleeping, maiden, "T is the break of day, and we must away, Wait not to find thy slippers, Prec. (giving him her hand). I have We shall have to pass through the dewy still grass, And waters wide and fleet. (Disappears down the pass. Enter a Monk. A shepherd appears on the rocks above.) Monk. Ave Maria, gratia plena. Olá! good man! Monk. How far is it? That's nuts to crack. Shep. Olá! Monk. Is this the road to Segovia ? Your friend, Don Carlos, is now at the Showing to Pedro Crespo, the Alcalde, The proofs of what I tell you. The old hag, Shep. I do not know. Monk. What is that yonder in the Shep. San Ildefonso. Monk. A long way to breakfast. Monk. Are there robbers in these Who stole you in your childhood, has mountains? confessed; Shep. Yes, and worse than that. Out of its grated windows have I looked Hundreds of feet plumb down to the Eresma, That, like a serpent through the valley creeping, Glides at its foot. Prec. O yes! I see it now, Yet rather with my heart than with mine eyes, So faint it is. And all my thoughts sail thither, Freighted with prayers and hopes, and forward urged Against all stress of accident, as in The Eastern Tale, against the wind and tide Great ships were drawn to the Magnetic Mountains, And there were wrecked, and perished in the sea! (She weeps.) Vict. O gentle spirit! Thou didst bear unmoved Blasts of adversity and frosts of fate! But the first ray of sunshine that falls on thee Melts thee to tears! O, let thy weary heart Lean upon mine! and it shall faint no more, Nor thirst, nor hunger; but be com forted (They descend the pass. CHISPA remains behind.) Chispa. I have a father, too, but he is a dead one. Alas and alack-a-day! Poor was I born, and poor do I remain. I neither win nor lose. Thus I wag through the world, half the time on foot, and the other half walking; and always as merry as a thunder-storm in the night. And so we plough along, as the fly said to the ox. Who knows what may happen? Patience, and shuffle the cards! I am not yet so bald that you can see my brains; and perhaps, after all, I shall some day go to Rome, and come back Saint Peter. Benedicite ! [Exit. |