Chapter 12

_Infanta._ Alas! what uneasiness I feel in my mind! I weep for her sorrows, [yet still] her lover enthralls me; my calmness forsakes me, and my passion revives. That which is going to separate Rodrigo from Chimène rekindles at once my hope and my pain; and their separation, which I see with regret, infuses a secret pleasure in mine enamored soul.

_Leonora._ This noble pride which reigns in your soul, does it so soon surrender to this unworthy passion?

_Infanta._ Call it not unworthy, since, seated in my heart, proud and triumphant, it asserts its sway [_lit._ law] over me. Treat it with respect, since it is so dear to me. My pride struggles against it, but, in spite of myself--I hope; and my heart, imperfectly shielded against such a vain expectation, flies after a lover whom Chimène has lost.

_Leonora._ Do you thus let this noble resolution give way [_lit._ fall]? And does reason in your mind thus lose its influence?

_Infanta._ Ah! with how little effect do we listen to reason when the heart is assailed by a poison so delicious, and when the sick man loves his malady! We can hardly endure that any remedy should be applied to it.

_Leonora._ Your hope beguiles you, your malady is pleasant to you; but, in fact, this Rodrigo is unworthy of you.

_Infanta._ I know it only too well; but if my pride yields, learn how love flatters a heart which it possesses. If Rodrigo once [_or_, only] comes forth from the combat as a conqueror, if this great warrior falls beneath his valor, I may consider him worthy of me, and I may love him without shame. What may he not do, if he can conquer the Count? I dare to imagine that, as the least of his exploits, entire kingdoms will fall beneath his laws; and my fond love is already persuaded that I behold him seated on the throne of Granada, the vanquished Moors trembling while paying him homage; Arragon receiving this new conqueror, Portugal surrendering, and his victorious battles [_lit._ noble days] advancing his proud destinies beyond the seas, laving his laurels with the blood of Africans! In fine, all that is told of the most distinguished warriors I expect from Rodrigo after this victory, and I make my love for him the theme of my glory.

_Leonora._ But, madam, see how far you carry his exploits [_lit._ arm] in consequence of a combat which, perhaps, has no reality!

_Infanta._ Rodrigo has been insulted; the Count has committed the outrage; they have gone out together. Is there need of more?

_Leonora._ Ah, well! they will fight, since you will have it so; but will Rodrigo go so far as you are going?

_Infanta._ Bear with me [_lit._ what do you mean]? I am mad, and my mind wanders; thou seest by that what evils this love prepares for me. Come into my private apartment to console my anxieties, and do not desert me in the trouble I am in [at present].