Chapter 2

_Infanta (to Page_). Page, go, tell Chimène from me, that to-day she is rather long in coming to see me, and that my friendship complains of her tardiness. [_Exit Page._]

_Leonora._ Dear lady, each day the same desire urges you, and at your interview with her, I see you every day ask her how her love proceeds.

_Infanta._ It is not without reason. I have almost compelled her to receive the arrows with which her soul is wounded. She loves Rodrigo, and she holds him from my hand; and by means of me Don Rodrigo has conquered her disdain. Thus, having forged the chains of these lovers, I ought to take an interest in seeing their troubles at an end.

_Leonora._ Dear lady, however, amidst their good fortune you exhibit a grief which proceeds to excess. Does this love, which fills them both with gladness, produce in this noble heart [of yours] profound sadness? And does this great interest which you take in them render you unhappy, whilst they are happy? But I proceed too far, and become indiscreet.

_Infanta._ My sadness redoubles in keeping the secret. Listen, listen at length, how I have struggled; listen what assaults my constancy [_lit._ virtue or valor] yet braves. Love is a tyrant which spares no one. This young cavalier, this lover which I give [her]--I love him.

_Leonora._ You love him!

_Infanta._ Place your hand upon my heart, and feel [_lit._ see] how it throbs at the name of its conqueror! how it recognizes him!

_Leonora._ Pardon me, dear lady, if I am wanting in respect in blaming this passion; a noble princess to so far forget herself as to admit in her heart a simple [_or_, humble] cavalier! And what would the King say?--what would Castile say? Do you still remember of whom you are the daughter?

_Infanta._ I remember it so well, that I would shed my blood rather than degrade my rank. I might assuredly answer to thee, that, in noble souls, worth alone ought to arouse passions; and, if my love sought to excuse itself, a thousand famous examples might sanction it. But I will not follow these--where my honor is concerned, the captivation of my feelings does not abate my courage, and I say to myself always, that, being the daughter of a king, all other than a monarch is unworthy of me. When I saw that my heart could not protect itself, I myself gave away that which I did not dare to take; and I put, in place of my self, Chimène in its fetters, and I kindled their passions [_lit._ fires] in order to extinguish my own. Be then no longer surprised if my troubled soul with impatience awaits their bridal; thou seest that my happiness [_lit._ repose] this day depends upon it. If love lives by hope, it perishes with it; it is a fire which becomes extinguished for want of fuel; and, in spite of the severity of my sad lot, if Chimène ever has Rodrigo for a husband, my hope is dead and my spirit, is healed. Meanwhile, I endure an incredible torture; even up to this bridal. Rodrigo is dear to me; I strive to lose him, and I lose him with regret, and hence my secret anxiety derives its origin. I see with sorrow that love compels me to utter sighs for that [object] which [as a princess] I must disdain. I feel my spirit divided into two portions; if my courage is high, my heart is inflamed [with love]. This bridal is fatal to me, I fear it, and [yet] I desire it; I dare to hope from it only an incomplete joy; my honor and my love have for me such attractions, that I [shall] die whether it be accomplished, or whether it be not accomplished.

_Leonora._ Dear lady, after that I have nothing more to say, except that, with you, I sigh for your misfortunes; I blamed you a short time since, now I pity you. But since in a misfortune [i.e. an ill-timed love] so sweet and so painful, your noble spirit [_lit._ virtue] contends against both its charm and its strength, and repulses its assault and regrets its allurements, it will restore calmness to your agitated feelings. Hope then every [good result] from it, and from the assistance of time; hope everything from heaven; it is too just [_lit._ it has too much justice] to leave virtue in such a long continued torture.

_Infanta._ My sweetest hope is to lose hope.

(_The Page re-enters._)

_Page._ By your commands, Chimène comes to see you.

_Infanta_ (to _Leonora_). Go and converse with her in that gallery [yonder].

_Leonora._ Do you wish to continue in dreamland?

_Infanta._ No, I wish, only, in spite of my grief, to compose myself [_lit._ to put my features a little more at leisure]. I follow you.

[_Leonora goes out along with the Page._]