Bart. From the rough ridges of the wild Sierra, From caverns in the rocks, from hunger, thirst, And fever! Like a wild wolf to the sheepfold Come I for thee, my lamb.

Prec. Oh, touch me not! The Count of Lara's blood is on thy hands! The Count of Lara's curse is on thy soul !

Do not come near me ! Pray, begone from here! Thou art in danger! They have set a price

Upon thy head!

Bart.

Ay, and I 've wandered long

Among the mountains; and for many days

Have seen no human face, save the rough swine

herd's.

The wind and rain have been my sole companions.

I shouted to them from the rocks thy name,

And the loud echo sent it back to me,

I come for thee! for thee I thus brave death!
Fly with me o'er the borders of this realm!

When we were children! how we played together,

How we grew up together; how we plighted

Our hearts unto each other, even in childhood!

Fulfil thy promise, for the hour has come.
I'm hunted from the kingdom, like a wolf!
Fulfil thy promise.

A feeble girl, who have not long to live,

Whose heart is broken? Seek another wife,

Better than I, and fairer; and let not

Thy rash and headlong moods estrange her from

thee.

Thou art unhappy in this hopeless passion.

I never sought thy love; never did aught
To make thee love me. Yet I pity thee,
And most of all I pity thy wild heart,

That hurries thee to crimes and deeds of blood.
Beware, beware of that.

Bart.

For thy dear sake

I will be gentle. Thou shalt teach me patience. Prec. Then take this farewell, and depart in

Bart.

Then woe, eternal woe, upon thee! Thou shalt not be another's. Thou shalt die.

[Exit.

Prec. All holy angels keep me in this hour! Spirit of her who bore me, look upon me! Mother of God, the glorified, protect me! Christ and the saints, be merciful unto me! Yet why should I fear death? What is it to

die?

To leave all disappointment, care, and sorrow,
To leave all falsehood, treachery, and unkindness,
All ignominy, suffering, and despair,

And be at rest forever! O dull heart,

Be of good cheer! When thou shalt cease to beat,

Then shalt thou cease to suffer and complain!

(Enter VICTORIAN and HYPOLITO behind.)

Vict. 'Tis she! Behold, how beautiful she stands

Under the tent-like trees!

Нур.

A woodland nymph!

Vict. I pray thee, stand aside. Leave me.

Hyp.

Do not betray thyself too soon.

Vict. (disguising his voice).

Be wary.

Hist! Gypsy!

Prec. (aside, with emotion). That voice! that voice from heaven! Oh speak again!

Who is it calls?

Vict.

Prec. (aside).

A friend.

"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 for

tunes?

Prec. Not in the dark.

fire.

Come nearer to the

Give me your hand. It is not crossed, I see.
Vict. (putting a piece of gold into her hand).
There is the cross.

Prec.

Vict.

Is 't silver?

No, 't is gold.

Prec. There's a fair lady at the Court, who

loves you,

And for yourself alone.

Vict.

Tell me a better fortune for my money;

Not this old woman's tale!

Prec.

Fie! the old story!

You are passionate;

And this same passionate humor in your blood
Has marred your fortune. Yes; I see it now;
The line of life is crossed by many marks.
Shame! shame! Oh, 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.

Whispered the secret.

Prec.

A little bird in the air

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 finger.

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?

Vict.

A traveller's fancy,

A whim, and nothing more. I would fain keep it

As a memento of the Gypsy camp

In Guadarrama, and the fortune-teller

Who sent me back to wed a widowed maid.

Pray, let me have the ring.

Prec.

No, never! never!

I will not part with it, even when I die;
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.

Vict.

How? dead?

Prec. Yes; dead to me; and worse than dead. He is estranged! And yet I keep this ring.

I will rise with it from my grave hereafter,

Το

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.