You might have spared the coming. | Lay not your hand upon me. Having spoken, Once more I beg you, leave me to my nearer And I will strike ! One step There lives a friend, who told me yester-I day, That on a certain night, be not offended If I too plainly speak, he saw a man Climb to your chamber window. You are silent! I would not blame you, being young and fair (He tries to embrace her. She starts back, and draws a dagger from her bosom.) Prec. Beware! beware! I am a Gypsy girl! humbled; For your sake I will put aside all anger, All unkind feeling, all dislike, and speak In gentleness, as most becomes a woman, And as my heart now prompts me. I no more Will hate you, for all hate is painful to me. But if, without offending modesty And that reserve which is a woman's glory, may speak freely, I will teach my heart To love you. Lara. Prec. O sweet angel! Ay, in truth, Far better than you love yourself or me. Lara. Give me some sign of this, — the slightest token. Let me but kiss your hand! Prec. Nay, come no nearer. The words I utter are its sign and token. Misunderstand me not! Be not de ceived! The love wherewith I love you is not such Vict. And yet, Hypolito, we may be wrong, We may be over-hasty in condemning! The Count of Lara is a cursed villain. Hyp. And therefore is she cursed, loving him. Vict. She does not love him! "Tis for gold! for gold! Hyp. Ay, but remember, in the public streets He shows a golden ring the Gypsy gave him, A serpent with a ruby in its mouth. Vict. She had that ring from me! But I will be revenged! The hour is passed. Where stays the coward? And therefore be not over-confident, Vict. You are disarmed. I will not kill you. I will not murder you. Take up your sword. (FRANCISCO hands the COUNT his sword, and HYPOLITO interposes.) Hyp. Enough! Let it end here! The Count of Lara Has shown himself a brave man, and Victorian A generous one, as ever. Now be friends. Put up your swords; for, to speak frankly to you, Your cause of quarrel is too slight a thing I am content. I sought no quarrel. A few hasty words, Spoken in the heat of blood, have led to this. Hyp. Farewell, Sir Count. [Exeunt VICTORIAN and HYPOLITO. Lara. Farewell! farewell! farewell! Thus have I cleared the field of my worst I foe ! have none else to fear; the fight is The citadel is stormed, the victory won! done, [Exit with FRANCISCO. SCENE VII.- A lane in the suburbs. Night. Enter CRUZADO and BARTOLOMÉ. Cruz. And so, Bartolomé, the expedition failed. But where wast thou for the most part? Bart. In the Guadarrama mountains, near San Ildefonso. back with thee? Didst thou rob no one Cruz. And thou bringest nothing Bart. There was no one to rob, save a party of students from Segovia, who looked as if they would rob us; and a jolly little friar, who had nothing in his pockets but a missal and a loaf of bread. Cruz. Pray, then, what brings thee back to Madrid? Bart. First tell me what keeps thee here? Cruz. Preciosa. Bart. And she brings me back. Hast thou forgotten thy promise? Cruz. The two years are not passed (Throws it upon the ground, and tramples yet. Wait patiently. The girl shall be upon it.) thine. |