Scene I.—_Preciosa’s Chamber. Morning. Preciosa and Angelica.

_Pre._ Why will you go so soon? Stay yet awhile. The poor too often turn away unheard From hearts that shut against them, with a sound That will be heard in Heaven. Pray tell me more Of your adversities. Keep nothing from me. What is your landlord’s name? _Ang._ The Count of Lara. _Pre._ The Count of Lara? O beware that man! Mistrust his pity—hold no parley with him! And rather die an outcast in the streets Than touch his gold. _Ang._ You know him, then! _Pre._ As much As any woman may, and yet be pure. As you would keep your name without a blemish, Beware of him! _Ang._ Alas! what can I do? I cannot choose my friends. Each word of kindness, Come whence it may, is welcome to the poor. _Pre._ Make me your friend. A girl so young and fair Should have no friends, but those of her own sex. What is your name? _Ang._ Angelica. _Pre._ That name Was given you, that you might be an angel To her who bore you! When your infant smile Made her home Paradise, you were her angel. O be an angel still. She needs that smile. So long as you are innocent, fear nothing. No one can harm you! I am a poor girl, Whom chance has taken from the public streets. I have no other shield than my own virtue. That is the charm which has protected me! Amid a thousand perils, I have worn it Here in my heart! It is my guardian angel! _Ang._ (_rising._) I thank you for this counsel, dearest lady! _Pre._ Thank me by following it. _Ang._ Indeed I will. _Pre._ Pray do not go. I have much more to say. _Ang._ My mother is alone. I dare not leave her. _Pre._ Some other time, then, when we meet again. You must not go away with words alone. (_Gives her a purse._) Take this. Would it were more. _Ang._ I thank you, lady. _Pre._ No thanks. To-morrow come to me again. I dance to-night—perhaps for the last time. But what I gain, I promise shall be yours, If that can save you from the Count of Lara. _Ang._ O my dear lady! how shall I be grateful For so much kindness! _Pre._ I deserve no thanks. Thank Heaven, not me. _Ang._ Both Heaven and you. _Pre._ Farewell! Remember that you come again to-morrow. _Ang._ I will. And may the blessed Virgin guard you, And all good angels. [_Exit._ _Pre._ May they guard thee too, And all the poor: for they have need of angels. Now bring me here, dear Dolores, my basquiña, My richest maja dress—my dancing dress, And my most precious jewels! Make me look Fairer than night e’er saw me! I’ve a prize To win this day, worthy of Preciosa! _Enter Beltram Cruzado._ _Cruz._ Ave Maria! _Pre._ Oh God! my evil genius! What seek you here to-day? _Cruz._ Thyself—my child. _Pre._ What is thy will with me? _Cruz._ Gold!—gold! _Pre._ I gave thee yesterday; I have no more. _Cruz._ The gold of the Busné—give me his gold! _Pre._ I gave the last in charity to-day. _Cruz._ That is a foolish lie. _Pre._ It is the truth. _Cruz._ Curses upon thee! Thou art not my child! Hast thou given gold away, and not to me? Not to thy father? To whom, then? _Pre._ To one Who needs it more. _Cruz._ No one can need it more, No one so much as I. _Pre._ Thou art not poor. _Cruz._ Not poor! not poor! what, I who lurk about In dismal suburbs and unwholesome lanes; I who am housed worse than the galley slave; I who am fed worse than the kenneled hound; I who am clothed in rags—Beltram Cruzado— Not poor! _Pre._ Thou hast a stout heart and strong hands. Thou canst supply thy wants; what wouldst thou more? _Cruz._ The gold of the Busné!—give me his gold! _Pre._ Beltram Cruzado! hear me once for all. I speak the truth. So long as I had gold, I gave it to thee freely, at all times— Never denied thee; never had a wish But to fulfill thine own. Now go in peace! Be merciful—be patient—and, ere long, Thou shalt have more. _Cruz._ And if I have it not, Thou shall no longer dwell here in rich chambers, Wear silken dresses, feed on dainty food, And live in idleness; but go with me— Dance the romalis in the public streets, And wander wild again o’er field and fell; For here we stay not long. _Pre._ What! march again? _Cruz._ Aye, with all speed. I hate the crowded town! I cannot breathe, shut up within its gates! Air—I want air—and sunshine—and blue sky, The feeling of the breeze upon my face— The feeling of the turf beneath my feet, And no walls but the far-off mountain tops. Then I am free and strong—once more myself: Beltram Cruzado—Count of the Calés! _Pre._ God speed thee on thy march—I cannot go. _Cruz._ Not go!—thou shall go! or, remaining here, Purchase thy freedom with red gold. Mark that! I will return to-morrow. Until then Reflect on what I say. Thou knowest me— Take heed. [_Exit._ _Pre._ Alas! of what shall I take heed? 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 me. [_Exit._