Bart. Follow lamps ! that! follow that! Where is Victorian? Oh, those hateful Come with me. Puss! puss! (Exeunt. On the opposite side enter the COUNT OF LARA and gentlemen, with FRANCISCO.) Now, gentlemen, come in, and help me scale Yon balcony. How now? Her light still burns. They glare upon me like an evil eye. cannot stay. Hark! how they mock I at me ! They hiss at me like serpents ! Save me! save me ! How late is it, Dolores? Move warily. Make fast the gate, Fran- (She sleeps again. Noise from the garden, cisco. and voices.) SONG (continued). Thy deceits Give us clearly to comprehend, All thy pleasures, all thy sweets! Thorns below and flowers above. Perjured, false, treacherous Love! Vict. A very pretty song. I thank Hyp. It suits thy case. Indeed, I think it does. What wise man wrote it? Нур. Lopez Maldonado. Vict. In truth, a pretty song. Hyp. With much truth in it. I hope thou wilt profit by it; and in earnest Try to forget this lady of thy love. Vict. I will forget her! All dear recollections Pressed in my heart, like flowers within a book, Shall be torn out, and scattered to the winds ! I will forget her! But perhaps hereafter, All this the dead feel not, the dead When she shall learn how heartless is the world, A voice within her will repeat my name, And she will say, "He was indeed my friend!" O, would I were a soldier, not a scholar, That the loud march, the deafening beat of drums, The shattering blast of the brass-throated trumpet, The din of arms, the onslaught and the storm, alone! Pancho. And if in seventy days you | are not gone, Dead or alive I make you all my slaves. (The Gypsies go out in confusion, showing signs of fear and discontent. PANCHO follows.) Padre C. A righteous law! A very righteous law! Pray you, sit down. Pedro C. (They seat themselves on a bench at the PADRE CURA's door. Sound of guitars heard at a distance, approaching during the dialogue which follows.) I thank you heartily. A very righteous judgment, as you say. Now tell me, Padre Cura, -you know all things, How came these Gypsies into Spain? As the Simoniacs from Simon Magus.. Is not a Christian, so 't is with the Gypsies. They never marry, never go to mass, Never baptize their children, nor keep Lent, Nor see the inside of a church, nor nor Pedro C. Good reasons, good, substantial reasons all! No matter for the other ninety-five. They should be burnt, I see it plain enough, They should be burnt. (Enter VICTORIAN and HYPOLITO playing.) Padre C. And pray, whom have we here? Pedro C. More vagrants! By Saint Lazarus, more vagrants! Hyp. Good evening, gentlemen! Is this Guadarrama ? Padre C. Yes, Guadarrama, and good evening to you. Hyp. We seek the Padre Cura of the village; And, judging from your dress and reverend mien, You must be he. Padre C. I am. Pray, what's your pleasure? Padre C. (joyfully). Ay, know it, and have worn it. Pedro C. (aside). Soup-eaters! by the mass! The worst of vagrants! And there's no law against them. Sir, your servant. [Exit. Padre C. Your servant, Pedro Crespo. Hyp. Padre Cura, From the first moment I beheld your face, I said within myself, "This is the man!" There is a certain something in your looks, A certain scholar-like and studious some thing, You understand, which cannot be mistaken; Which marks you as a very learned man, What impudence! Hyp. As we approached, I said to my companion, "That is the Padre Cura; mark my words!" Meaning your Grace. "The other man," said I, "Who sits so awkwardly upon the bench, Must be the sacristan." Ah! said you so? Why, that was Pedro Crespo, the alcalde ! Hyp. Indeed! you much astonish me! His air |