Prec. To utter such a falsehood! Vict. Oh, you will not dare I not dare? Look in my face, and say if there is aught (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 Vict. I pray thee, do not chide 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, Indeed, since that sad hour I have not slept, Dost thou forgive me? Say, wilt thou forgive me? That walks the earth, to have believed thee false. Line 2. To utter such a fiendish lie! Not dare? Vict. I have heard all. And yet speak on, speak on! Let me but hear thy voice, and I am happy; (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 student, And this sweet Gypsy lass, fair Preciosa! Prec. Señor Hypolito! I kiss your hand. Pray, shall I tell your fortune? Not to-night; Hyp. My wedding day would last from now till Christ mas. Chispa (within). What ho! the Gypsies, ho! Beltran Cruzado ! Halloo halloo ! halloo! halloo ! (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 father, And we have all Chispa. Chispa. 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? Chispa. 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, Vict. No; let it be a day of general joy; Hyp. So farewell, The student's wandering life! Sweet serenades, To you, ye cloistered shades of Alcalá, Το And leaves the Gypsy with the Spanish Student. 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, Awake and open thy door, "T is 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, (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.) SONG. Worn with speed is my good steed, With the white star in thy forehead! Line 23. Worn with speed is my caballo, |