Away! It is in vain.

PRECIOSA.

BARTOLOMÉ.

Wilt thou not come?

PRECIOSA.

Never!

BARTOLOMÉ.

Then woe, eternal woe, upon thee!

Thou shalt not be another's. Thou shalt die.

PRECIOSA.

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 for ever! 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.)

VICTORIAN.

'Tis she! Behold, how beautiful she stands Under the tent-like trees!

HYPOLITO.

A woodland nymph!

VICTORIAN.

I pray thee, stand aside. Leave me.

HYPOLITO.
Be wary.

Do not betray thyself too soon.

VICTORIAN (disguising his voice).
Hist! Gipsy!

[Exit.

PRECIOSA (aside, with emotion).

That voice! that voice from heaven! O speak again!

Who is it calls?

VICTORIAN.

A friend.

PRECIOSA (aside).

"Tis he! "Tis 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?

VICTORIAN.

A true friend to the true; Fear not; come hither. So; can you tell fortunes?

PRECIOSA.

Not in the dark. Come nearer to the fire.

Give me your hand. It is not crossed, I see.

VICTORIAN (putting a piece of gold into her hand).

There is the cross.

PRECIOSA.

Is 't silver?

VICTORIAN.

No, 't is gold.

PRECIOSA.

There's a fair lady at the Court, who loves you,

And for yourself alone.

VICTORIAN.

Fie! the old story!

Tell me a better fortune for my money;

Not this old woman's tale!

PRECIOSA.

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! O you have wronged the maid who loved you! How could you do it?

VICTORIAN.

I never loved a maid;

For she I loved was then a maid no more.

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; shall mend your fortunes, mending hers.

And you

VICTORIAN (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.

Pray give it me. (Tries to take the ring.)

PRECIOSA.

No; never from my hand

Shall that be taken!

VICTORIAN.

Why, 't is but a ring.

I'll give it back to you; or, if I keep it,
Will give you gold to buy you twenty such.

PRECIOSA.

Why would you have this ring?

VICTORIAN.

A traveller's fancy,

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

As a memento of the Gipsy camp

In Guadarrama, and the fortune-teller

Who sent me back to wed a widowed maid.
Pray, let me have the ring.

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.

VICTORIAN.

How? dead?

PRECIOSA.

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, To prove to him that I was never false.

VICTORIAN (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.

PRECIOSA.

O, you will not dare

To utter such a fiendish lie!

VICTORIAN.
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.)

PRECIOSA.

'Tis 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?

VICTORIAN.

Ask me not now, my dearest Preciosa.

Let me forget we ever have been parted!

Longfellow. I.

14

Forgive me, sweet! for what I made thee suffer
Think'st thou this heart could feel a moment's joy,
Thou being absent? O, 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?

I have forgiven thee.
Were in the book of
I had forgiven thee.

Say, wilt thou forgive me?

PRECIOSA.

Ere those words of anger Heaven writ down against thee,

VICTORIAN.

I'm the veriest fool

That walks the earth, to have believed thee false.

It was the Count of Lara

PRECIOSA.

That bad man

Has worked me harm enough. Hast thou not heard

VICTORIAN.

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.)

HYPOLITO.

All gentle quarrels in the pastoral poets,

All passionate love scenes in the best romances,