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Oh, you will not dare
To utter such a falsehood!

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. 'T is thou! 't is 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 !

Prec. Hadst thou not come

I pray thee, do not chide me! Prec. I should have perished here among these

Vict. Forgive me, sweet! for what I made thee

Think'st thou this heart could feel a moment's joy,
Thou being absent? Oh, believe it not!
Indeed, since that sad hour I have not slept,
For thinking of the wrong I did to thee!
Dost thou forgive me? Say, wilt thou forgive me?
Prec. I have forgiven thee. Ere those words of

anger Were in the book of Heaven writ down against

thee, I had forgiven thee. Vict.

I'm the veriest fool That walks the earth, to have believed thee false. It was the Count of Lara

Line 2. To utter such a fiendish lie !
Line 3.

Not dare ?


That bad man Has worked me harm enough. Hast thou not

Vict. I have heard all. And yet speak on,

speak on!
Let me but hear thy voice, and I am happy;
For every tone, like some sweet incantation,
Calls up the buried past to plead for me.
Speak, my beloved, speak into my heart,
Whatever fills and agitates thine own.

(They walk aside.)
Hyp. All gentle quarrels in the pastoral poets,
All passionate love-scenes in the best romances,
All chaste embraces on the public stage,
All soft adventures, which the liberal stars
Have winked at, as the natural course of things,
Have been surpassed here by my friend, the

And this sweet Gypsy lass, fair Preciosa !

Prec. Señor Hypolito! I kiss your hand.
Pray, shall I tell your fortune ?

Not to-night;
For, should you treat me as you did Victorian,
And send me back to marry maids forlorn,
My wedding day would last from now till Christ-

Chispa (within). What ho! the Gypsies, ho !

Beltran Cruzado!
Halloo ! halloo ! halloo ! halloo !

(Enters booted, with a whip and lantern.)

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 father,
But your true father has returned to Spain
Laden with wealth. You are no more a Gypsy.

Vict. Strange as a Moorish tale!

And we have all
Been drinking at the tavern to your health,
As wells drink in November, when it rains.

Vict. Where is the gentleman ?

As the old song says,
His body is in Segovia,

His soul is in Madrid. Prec. Is this a dream? Oh, if it be a dream, Let me sleep on, and do not wake me yet ! Repeat thy story! Say I'm not deceived ! 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 waking

dream, A blissful certainty, a vision bright Of that rare happiness, which even on earth Heaven gives to those it loves. Now art thou rich, As thou wast ever beautiful and good; And I am now the beggar.

Prec. (giving him her hand). I have still A hand to give.



Chispa (aside). And I have two to take. I've heard my grandmother say, that Heaven

gives almonds To those who have no teeth. That's nuts to crack. I've teeth to spare, but where shall I find almonds ?

Vict. What more of this strange story?

Nothing more.
Your friend, Don Carlos, is now at the village
Showing to Pedro Crespo, the Alcalde,
The proofs of what I tell you. The old hag,
Who stole you in your childhood, has confessed ; ;
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 not late.
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 !
To you, ye cloistered shades of Alcalá,

radiant visions of romance, Written in books, but here surpassed by truth, The Bachelor Hypolito returns, And leaves the Gypsy with the Spanish Student.

To you, ye



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.


If thou art sleeping, maiden,

Awake and open thy door,
'Tis the break of day, and we must away

O'er meadow, and mount, and moor.

Wait not to find thy slippers,

But come with thy naked feet;
We shall have to pass through the dewy 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 !

Shep. Olá!

Monk. Is this the road to Segovia ?
Shep. It is, your reverence.
Monk. How far is it?
Shep. I do not know.
Monk. What is that yonder in the valley ?
Shep. San Ildefonso.
Monk. A long way to breakfast.
Shep. Ay, marry.
Monk. Are there robbers in these mountains ?
Shep. Yes, and worse than that.
Monk. What?
Shep. Wolves.

Monk. Santa Maria ! Come with me to San Ildefonso, and thou shalt be well rewarded.

Shep. What wilt thou give me?
Monk. An Agnus Dei and my benediction.

(They disappear. A mounted Contrabandista passes wrapped in

his cloak, and a gun at his saddle-bow. He goes down the pass singing.)

Worn with speed is my good steed,
And I march me hurried, worried ;
Onward, caballito mio,
With the white star in thy forehead !

Line 23. Worn with speed is my caballo,

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