In my behalf, who am a feeble girl,
Too feeble to resist and do not force me
To wed that man! I am afraid of him!
I do not love him! On my knees I beg thee
To use no violence, nor do in laste
What cannot be undone!

Cruz.
O child, child, child;
Thou hast betrayed thy secret, as a bird
Betrays her nest, by striving to conceal it.
I will not leave thee here in the great city
To be a grandee's mistress. Make thee ready
To go with us; and until then remember
A watchful eye is on thee.

[Exit.

Prec. Woe is me I have a strange misgiving in my heart! But that one deed of charity I'll do, Befall what may, they cannot take that from

Your grace was pleased to order, wait without. Arch. Bid then come in. Now shall your eyes behold

In what angelic yet voluptuous shape The Devil came to tempt Saint Anthony. Enter PRECIOLA, with a mantle thrown over her head. She advances slowly, in modest, half-timid attitude.

Card. (aside.) Oh, what a fair and ministering angel

Was lost to heaven when this sweet woman fell!

Prec. (kneeling before the ARCHBISHOP.) I have obeyed the order of your grace.

If I intrude upon your better hours,
I proffer this excuse, and here beseech
Your holy benediction.

Arch.

My God bless thee, Arise.

And lead thee to a better life.

Card. (aside.) Her acts are modest, and her words discreet.

I did not look for this! Come hither, child.
Is thy name Preciosa?

Prec.

Thus I am called.

Card. That is a gipsy name. Who is thy

father?

Prec. Beltran Cruzado, Count of the Calés. Arch. I have a dim remembrance of that man; He was a bold and reckless character,

A sun burnt Ishmael!

The march across the moor; the halt at noon;
The red fire of the evening camp, that lighted
The forest where we slept; and, farther back,
As in a dream, or in some former life,
Gardens and palace walls.

Arch. 'Tis the Alhambra, Under whose towers the gipsy camp was pitched. But time wears; and we would see the dance. Prec. Your grace shall be obeyed. (She lays aside her mantula The music of the cachucha is played, and the dance begins. The ARCHBISHOP and the CARDINAL look on with gravity and an occasional frown, then make signs to each other. and, as the dance continues, become more and more pleased and excited; and at length rise from their seats, throw their caps in the air, and applaud vehemently as the scene closes )

SCENE III.-The Prado. A long avenue of trees leading to the gates of Atocha. On the right, the dome and spires of a convent. A fountain. Evening.

DON CARLOS and HYPOLITO meeting. Don Car Holà! good evening, Don Hypolito. Hyp. And a good evening to my friend, Don Carlos.

Some lucky star has led my steps this way,
I was in search of you.
Don Car
Command me always
Hyp. Do you remember, in Quevedo's Dreams,
The iniser, who upon the Day of Judgment,
Asks if his money-bags would rise?

Don Car.

But what of that? Hyp.

1 do.

I am that wretched man.

Don Car. You mean to tell me yours have risen empty?

Hyp. And amen! said the Cid Campeador.
Don Car. Pray how much need you?

Some half-dozen ounces.

Нур.
Which with dne interest-

Don Car. (giving his purse.) What, am I a Jew,
To put my money out at usury?
Here is my purse.

Hyp Thank you. A pretty purse,
Made by the hand of some fair Madrilene;
Perhaps a keepsake.
Don Car.

No, tis at your service.
Hyp. Thank you again. Lie there good Saint
Chrysostom,
And with thy golden mouth remind me often
I am the debtor of my friend.
Don Car.
But tell me,
Come you to-day from Alcalá?
Hyp
Don Car. And pray, how fares the brave Vic-

torian?

This moment.

Don Car. A common thing with poets. But who is

This floating lily? For, in fine, some woman,
Some living woman.-not a mere ideal,-
Must wear the outward semblance of his thought.
Who is it? Tell me.

Well, it is a woman!

Нур. But. look you, from the coffer of his heart He brings forth precious jewels to adorn her, As pious priests adorn some favourite saint With gems and gold, until at length she gleams One blaze of glory. Without these, you know, And the priest's benediction, 'tis a doll. Don Car. Well, well! who is this doll? Hyp. Why, who do you think? Don Car. His cousin Violante. Hyp. Guess again. To ease his labouring heart, in the last storm He threw her overboard, with all her ingots. Don Car. I cannot guess: so tell me who it is. Hyp. Not 1.

Why not?

Don Car.
Hyp. (mysteriously.) Why? Becanse Mari

Franca

He spoke but lightly of the lady's virtue, As a gay man might speak.

Vict.

Death and damnation! I' cut his lying tongue out of his mouth,, And throw it to my dog! But no, no, no! | This cannot be. You jest, indeed you jest. Trifle with me no more. For otherwise We are no longer friends. And so, farewell! [Erit.

Hyp. Now what a coil is here! The Avenging
Child

Hunting the traitor Quadros to his death,
And the great Moor Calaynos, when he rode
To Paris for the ears of Oliver,

Were nothing to him! Oh, hot-headed youth!
But come; we will not follow. Let us join
The crowd that pours into the Prado. There
We shall find merrier company I see
The Marialonzos and the Almavivas,
And fifty fans, that beckon me already.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-PRECIOSA'S Chamber. She is sitting, with a book in her hand, near a table, on which are flowers. A bird singing in its cage. The COUNT OF LARA enters behind unperceived. Prec. (reads).

All are sleeping, weary heart! Thou, thou only sleepless art! Heigho! I wish Victorian were here.

I know not what it is that makes me so rest-
less!
(The bird sings.)

Thou little prisoner with thy motley coat,
That from thy vaulted, wiry dungeon singest,
Like thee I am a captive, and, like thee,
I have a gentle gaoler. Lack-a-day!

All are sleeping, weary heart;
Thou, thou, only sleepless art!
All this throbbing, all this aching,
Evermore shall keep thee waking
For a heart in sorrow breaking
Thinketh ever of its smart!

Thou speakest truly, poet! and methinks
More hearts are breaking in this world of ours
Than one would say. In distant villages
And solitudes remote, where winds have wafted
The barbed seeds of love, or birds of passage
Scattered them in their flight, do they take

root,

And grow in silence, and in silence perish.
Who hears the falling of the forest leaf?
Or who takes note of every flower that dies?
Heigho! I wish Victorian would come.
Dolores!

(Turns to lay down her book, and perceives the COUNT.)

Vict.

Hyp.

For thou art jealous.

Viet.

No, I am not jealous.

Hyp. Thou shouldst be.

Vict.

Why?

Lara.

Hyp

Because thou art in love;

Prec.

На!

Lara. Senora, pardon me! Prec. How's this? Dolores!

Lara. Be not alarmed; I found no one in waiting.

If I have been too bold.

Prec. (turning her back upon him.) You are too bold!

Retire retire, and leave me!
Lara.
My dear lady.
First hear me! I beseech you, let me speak!
'Tis for your good I come.

Prec. (turning towards him with indignation.)
You are the Count of Lara, but your deeds
Would make the statues of your ancestors
Blush on their tombs! Is it Castilian honour,-
Is it Castilian pride, to steal in here
Upon a friendless girl, to do her wrong?
O`shame! shame! shame! that you, a noble-

I come here as your friend,-I am your friend,~
And by a single word can put a stop

To all those idle tales, and make your name
Spotless as lilies are. Here on my knees,
Fair Preciosa! on my knees I swear,

I love you even to madness, and that love
Has driven me to break the rules of custom.
And force myself unasked into your presence.
VICTORIAN enters behind.

Prec. Rise, Count of Lara! That is not the place,

For such as you are. It becomes you not
To kncel before me. I am strangely moved
To see one of your rank thus low and 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,
I may speak freely, I will teach my heart
To love you.

O sweet angel!

Lara.

Prec.

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 deceived! The love wherewith I love you is not such As you would offer me. For you come here, To take from me the only thing I have, My honour. You are wealthy, you have friends And kindred, and a thousand pleasant hopes That fill your heart with happiness; but i Am poor, and friendless, having but one treasure,

And you would take that from me, and for what?

To flatter your own vanity, and make me
What you would most despise. O, Sir, such

love,

That seeks to harm me, cannot be true love.
Indeed it cannot. But my love for you
Is of a different kind. It seeks your good.
It is a holier feeling. It rebukes

Your earthly passion. your unchaste desires,
And bids you look into your heart, and see
How you do wrong that better nature in you,
And grieve your soul with sin.
Lara..
I swear to you,
I would not harm you, I would only love you.
I would not take your honour, but restore it,
And in return I ask but some slight mark
Of your affection. If indeed you love me,
As you confess you do, oh, let me thus
With this embrace-

Vict. (rushing forward.) Hold! hold! This is too much.

What means this outrage?

Lara.

First, what right have you To question thus a nobleman of Spain? Vict. I, too, am noble, and you are no more! Out of my sight!

Lara.

Are you the master here?

Vict. Ay, here and elsewhere, when the wrong

of others

pain,

Yet it has cured my blindness, and I thank you.
I now can see the folly I have done,
Though 'tis, alas! too late. So fare you well!
To-night I leave this hateful town for ever.
Regard me as your friend. Once more, fare-
well!

Hyp. Farewell, Sir Count.

[Exeunt VICTORIAN and HYPOLITO. Farewell! fareweli!

Lara. Thus have I cleared the field of my worst foe! I have none else to fear? the fight is done, The citadel is stormed, the victory won!

[Exit with FRANCISCO.

It softens many hearts.
Lara.

She now is in. Music would madden her.
Don J. Try golden cymbals.
Don L.

Yes, try Don Dinero;
A mighty wooer is your Don Dinero.
Lara. To tell the truth, then, I have bribed
her maid.

But, Caballeros, you dislike this wine.
A bumper and away! for the night wears.
A health to Preciosa!

(They rise and drink.) Preciosa!

Lara. (holding up his glass.)

and flaming minister of Love!

Thou bright

Thou wonderful magician! who hast stolen My secret from me, and 'mid sighs of passion

CRUZADO and BARTOLOME.

Cruz. And so, Bartolomé, the expedition failed. But where was thou for the most part?

Bart. In the Guadarama mountains, near San Ildefonso.

Cruz. And thou bringest nothing back with thee?

Didst thou rob no one?

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. Has thou forgotten thy promise?

Cruz. The two years are not passed yet. Wait patiently. The girl shall be thine.

Bart. I hear she has a Busnè lover
Cruz. That is nothing.

Bart. I do not like it. I hate him,-the son of a Busnè harlot. He goes in and out, and speaks with her alone, and I must stand aside, and wait his pleasure.

Cruz. Be patient, I say. Thou shalt have thy revenge. When the time comes, thou shalt waylay him.

Bari. Meanwhile, show me her house.

Cruz. Come this way. But thou wilt not find her. She dances at the play to-night. Bart. No matter. Show me the house.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VIII.-The Theatre. The orchestra plays the cachucha. Sound of castanets behind the scenes. The curtain rises, and discovers PRECIOSA in the attitude of commencing the dance. The cachucha. Tumult; hisses; cries of Brava!" and "Afuera!" She falters and pauses. The music stops. General confusion. PRECIOSA faints.

Her precious name! Oh, never more henceforth

Shall mortal lips press thine: and never more
A mortal name be whispered in thine ear.
Go! keep my secret!

(Drinks and dashes the goblet down. Scene closes.) Ite! missa est!

Don J.

Good night! Good night, beloved!
I come to watch o'er thee!
To be near thee.-to be near thee,
Alone is peace for me.

Thine eyes are stars of morning, Thy lips are crimson flowers! Good night! Good night, beloved, While I count the weary hours. Cruz. They are not coming this way. Bart. Wait, they begin again.

SONG (coming nearer).
Ah! thou moon that shinest
Argent-clear above!
All night long enlighten

My sweet lady-love
Moon that shinest,
All night long enlighter,