SCENE I.--_Outside the castle of Don Silvio. The castle of Don Diego

seen in the background, upon the opposite peak of the mountain. Time: Sunrise. Don Silvio and Donna Rodriguez._

D. SIL. My tears still blind my eyes. Look out, Rodriguez, And see if there be traces of my daughter. Alas! alas! this hoary head is bowed As 'neath the weight of yet a score of years. Oh, Inez, Inez! What a fate is thine! An thy young life be spared, could ought repay Th' injury done thine honour at the hands Of these bold, lawless, gipsies? Woe is me! Let me not think on't, or I shall go mad.

ROD. My lord, as I stand gazing towards the west, Methinks I see a dusty cloud advance; As were't a troup of horsemen at full speed, And bearing towards the castle. Now I see The limbs of horses and the arms of men; The sound of human voices, too, I hear, And, as they still approach, the distant tramp Of horses' hoofs is plainly audible. And now, unless my eyesight play me false, Foremost among a file of glittering pikes, I do discern Don Diego's waving plume. 'Tis he! and bearing at his saddle bow My mistress Inez. Oh, thank God! she's safe. Do you not hear, my master, what I say? Your daughter's safe! Come, cheer up, good my lord.

D. SIL. (_Musingly_). Safe! didst thou say! My daughter's honour safe?

ROD. How say you, sir? Her honor! Nay, her life?

D. SIL. (_Musingly_). Life without honor!

ROD. Sure, my lord's not well! (_Aside._) The blow has been too much for him, and turned His aged head. Oh, my poor, poor master! I tell him of his daughter's safe return, And straight he 'gins to prate about her honor. (_Aloud._) Look! look! Senor, at yonder cavalcade, How it sweeps along; and now, behold, Next to Don Diego is his servant Juan; And there is Pedro. Bless his good old soul! There the valiant hunter. Then all the crowd Of vassals and retainers, and the guard, [_Cheers without._ With the armed populace. Hark! What cheering!

D. SIL. Is it, indeed, my daughter? Let me see; 'Tis she, 'tis she; Oh, Inez!

_Enter_ INEZ, _accompanied by_ DON DIEGO. _Behind_, PEDRO, JUAN, HUNTER, _and_ ATTENDANTS.

INEZ. (_Embracing Don Silvio._) Father! Father!

ROD. My little mistress, Inez! What, no kiss For poor old nurse Rodriguez!

INEZ. (_Embracing Rodriguez._) Good Rodriguez!

[_Don Diego comes forward, whilst Inez in the background appears to be relating her adventures to Don Silvio and Donna Rodriguez._

D. DIE. (_Sotto._) What work I had to quell the dusky band, And carry off my prize. God only knows How the black caitiffs fought! Like demons damned; Incited on by their own swarthy queen, My former love. Bah! why recall the past, The ebullitions of a youthful lust, Now five-and-twenty years agone and more? And that at such a moment, too, as this, When, acting bridegroom for the second time, I now do lay my heart and hand, my wealth, My land, and castle, all my fair domain At fair Inez' feet. Poor Silvio's daughter! A few hour's more, and she will be my own. In my own private chapel at midnight, And not one minute later, there a priest Of my own choice, shall join our hands together. 'Twixt this and then, I must so use the time To win her fairly, and by wiles t'efface The prejudice young hearts by Nature have Against old age. If needs be, I must use Dissimulation and well act the saint, That she may not give credit to the tales That idle gossip may have crammed her with Against my moral character. And now I do bethink me that the readiest way Of all to win her over to my will Would be to tempt with goodly bribe her nurse (What will not such a woman do for gold?) To speak some little word in praise of me; Talk of my love for her, my name, my fame, My wealth, my virtues. How this match of hers Will please her aged father. And again, Should she be coy, and wickedly refuse The fortune heaven has strewed along her path, Let her reflect upon the consequences. I would act fair with her, for I'd be loath To lead to the altar an unwilling bride In sight of all my vassals and retainers. Yet, an she yield not (for as yet it seems She looks with cold suspicion on my suit), Why, then; why, then, however loath to use it, Force must accomplish all when goodwill fails. I cannot well expect much help at sixty From youthful graces, as when first I wooed My gipsy queen. _There!_ ever and anon From out the past these memories will arise, Like phantoms, threatening whether I will or no. Avaunt! begone! And yet I cannot choose But call to mind how, middle in the fray, The dead and wounded lying all around, Her dusky form arose before my path, And all undaunted stood with staff in hand And glance so terrible, I would as lief Meet with the King of Terrors face to face As that same virago. Yet there she stood, And with uplifted arm, in clear tones cried, "Traitor, beware! Thy star is on the wane, Think not to conquer always, for a hand Mightier than thine shall yet subdue thee. Blood is on thy hand. Thine own blood shall flow. The stars foretell thy downfall, so look to it." I heard no more, for I had barely placed My Lady Inez at my saddle bow, Mid smoke of carbines and the clash of arms: Myself with drawn sword cutting right and left, So could but pay slight heed to what she said, And set off homeward with my goodly prize, Leaving the baffled foe behind to moan. Yet, through the smoke and dust of horses' hoofs, Still, for a time, I heard the hellish cry: "Vengeance on the traitor! Vengeance, vengeance!" I know not why her words cut deeper than Had they been the words of any other; But from _her_ lips they came with such a force, They seemed to rend the air, and enter deep Into the very caverns of my soul, Turning my blood to milk, so that my arm Fell nerveless to my side, and my good blade Did well-nigh drop from out my hand. But hush! It never must be known that Don Diego, Though old in years, quailed before tongue of woman. Bah! away with all fear of childish threats. And, swarthy hag! do thou thy devilmost.

[_Inez comes forward, between Don Silvio and Rodriguez. Don Silvio motions for Rodriguez to retire. Exeunt Rodriguez and attendants._

INEZ. Nay, one thing still doth mar the joy I feel At having passed the dangers of last night. Though I stand safely on my father's hearth, And see him 'live and well, and know that I Have henceforth naught to fear, yet still my thoughts Will ever wander towards the gipsy camp, Close by the couch of that brave youth who fought At cost of his own life, to rescue me From out their hands.

D. DIE. How say you, lady fair? What youth? You dream. 'Twas I who rescued you.

INEZ. Your pardon, sir; but I was safe already. I thank you for your courtesy, the same. You thought to rescue me.

D DIE. How now? _Thought to?_

D. SIL. Friend Diego, the tale runs thus: My daughter, Accompanied by our old serving man, Had hardly been attacked by the gang And forced to dismount, when a comely youth Of gentle blood----

D. DIE. Ay, ay, the hunter's story!

D. SIL. Just so. Well, my daughter says the gipsies Meant her no harm. Merely would detain her.

D. DIE. _Meant her no harm!_ Ha, ha! Gipsies ne'er do. _Merely detain her!_ Good again! Ha, ha! Only so long as they might hope to get A pretty ransom. Why, friend Silvio?

D. SIL. The pelf and trinkets that she had upon her Were not demanded.

D. DIE. No; 'twas nought to what They looked forward to as goodly ransom.

INEZ. Of their motives I know nothing; but she Who seemed to be the queen of all the tribe Did use to me such courtesy and kindness As had she been my mother. Even when That noble youth, thinking us in danger, Rushed in upon them, killing and maiming All who dared withstand him, till at length Himself, poor soul! fell wounded in my cause. E'en then the queen herself had pity on him, And helped me bind his wounds.

D. DIE. What of all this?

INEZ. To show you gipsies have good qualities E'en as Christians.

D. DIE. Bah! traitors, all of them. But, what of this young man? This--this----

INEZ. Ah! _he_, The noble youth whose bandaged head I still Was tending when you did separate us, And bore me off? Did you not see him then?

D. DIE. Ay, some such bastard gipsy dog I saw. What! _he_ of noble blood! _He_ a Castilian! Some half-bred gipsy. Lady, sure it was A worse breed, far, than the pure gipsy born. What! think you, that because of borrowed plumes The jay will pass for peacock? Or that he, A base-born mongrel gipsy, just because Decked in the garments of some plundered lord, Could e'er deceive the eyes of men like us? Nay, lady, I do compassionate you. You are young, and the world to you is fresh, You know not of its wiles, its vice, its crimes, But take all men to be just as they seem. Take my experience, lady. I am old. Not _old_; but old enough to know the world And all its hollowness; and so most fit To guide and counsel inexperienced youth. Lean then on me, lady. I'll be your staff; And trust me faithfully when I tell you Not all the learning of the convent cell Is worth one ace of that we gain by age.

INEZ. Enough, sir. That the world is full of sin And treachery I ever have been told. My aunt, the Lady Abbess, oft would say We ever should distrust the tongue of men When most persuasive, be they young or old.

D. SIL. Come, Inez, thou art tired, and need rest After thy troubles and fatigues. (_To Don Diego._) My friend, You will excuse my daughter for a while, I've much to say to her in private.

D. DIE. Good. [_Exeunt Don Silvio and Inez._ Now for my ally. What ho! Rodriguez!

_Enter_ RODRIGUEZ.

ROD. Here I am, good my lord.

D. DIE. (_Caressingly._) Good Rodriguez, I know that thou'rt a good and trusty friend Unto this house. That thou lov'st well thy lord And also thy young mistress, unto whom From childhood thou hast acted as a mother.

ROD. Well, sir, I've always tried to do my best.

D. DIE. I know it. I know it both by report And mine own observation. Wherefore, now Full persuaded of thy many virtues----

ROD. Oh, my lord!

D. DIE. Nay, 'tis nothing but the truth. I say, once more, persuaded beyond doubt Of thy rare merits and good qualities And of the value of one such as thou To my old and long loved friend Don Silvio, I do repent me of the hasty words That lately 'scaped my too impatient tongue.

ROD. My lord, pray say no more. Rodriguez ever Remains your humble servant. (_Aside._) Really he Is not so bad as once I thought he was.

D. DIE. Believe me, that those words but rose in haste, From o'er anxiety about the fate Of thy young mistress, whom thou lovest so well. Whom I, too, love so well. I, too, Don Diego.

ROD. I doubt not, sir, with a true father's love.

D. DIE. Hark ye! Rodriguez, I must not waste time In coming to the point; but silence keep.

ROD. Ay, my lord. Who better than Rodriguez At a secret.

D. DIE. Ha! Sayest thou so, brave wench? Then list to me, and thou shalt never want For bit or sup, kirtel, or farthingale, As long thou livest. First accept this purse. [_Gives a heavy purse._

ROD. Oh, my good lord! My generous, noble, lord! What can I do to deserve your bounty? (_Aside._) Well, I remember to have heard folks say, "The devil's not so black as he is painted."

D. DIE. Rodriguez, hark! What thou hast in that purse Is nothing unto that which thou may'st earn, If thou succeedest in the task I set.

ROD. Proceed, my lord. I'm all attention. Speak.

D. DIE. Know then that I love thy mistress Inez. Ay, with the passion of a younger man. Count not my age--the heart is never old. I've sought her of her father, and 'twas settled She should be mine on her arrival home After her studies at St. Ursula's, Ay, on the very day. So ran the 'pact. The marriage, therefore, I have said takes place This very night, at midnight, in my chapel. All is prepared.

ROD. 'Tis over soon, my lord.

D. DIE. Peace! peace! I'll brook no waiting, no delay; I've sworn it shall be so, and it shall be. What care I, think'st thou, if the wedding dress, Or this or that be ready, so _I_ be? Thou knowest our acquaintance is but short; She scarce has seen my face. No matter that. Now listen. What I ask of thee is this: Do thou use all thy influence with the child, T'induce her to look kindly on my suit, And to her father's prayers and tears add thine. But leave her not until she do consent. And should she e'en at the eleventh hour Be obdurate, why then, as last resource, Tell her her father's life hangs on a thread. Say that his castle and all that he hath Will instantly be sold over his head; And he and she, and you two servants both Sent all adrift at once, to beg your bread. If that work not, then must I fain use force, And that were against me. So, Rodriguez, Kind Rodriguez, I pray thee do thy best.

ROD. My lord, you ever shall have my good word What I can do I will. Albeit, I think Your grace is over hasty in the matter. A little time----

D. DIE. No, faith, not one minute Past the hour fixed. So see to't. I will now Off to the castle, leaving thee one hour T'exercise thy powers of persuasion On thy young noble mistress. After that I shall appear again and try what I Myself can do to win her virgin heart. Use all thy art and strength. Till then, adieu. [_Exit._

ROD. A pretty fix, forsooth! _Use all my art!_ I love the dear child well, and would, I'm sure, Do all I could to help her to a state Worthy the better days of this old house. The Lady of Don Diego! That sounds well. Mistress of his castle and his servants, But wedded to a man who's old enough To be her grandsire! Had he been a gallant-- Yet his money's good. Humph! I suppose I must. [_Exit slowly; counting her money._