Chapter 29

_Infanta._ Whence [i.e. for what purpose] comest thou, Leonora?

_Leonora._ To congratulate you, dear lady, on the tranquillity which at last your soul has recovered.

_Infanta._ From what quarter can tranquillity come [_lit._ whence should this tranquillity come], in an accumulation of sorrow?

_Leonora._ If love lives on hope, and if it dies with it, Rodrigo can no more charm your heart; you know of the combat in which Chimène involves him; since he must die in it, or become her husband, your hope is dead and your spirit is healed.

_Infanta._ Ah! how far from it!

_Leonora._ What more can you expect?

_Infanta._ Nay, rather, what hope canst thou forbid me [to entertain]? If Rodrigo fights under these conditions, to counteract the effect of it [that conflict], I have too many resources. Love, this sweet author of my cruel punishments, puts into [_lit._ teaches] the minds of lovers too many stratagems.

_Leonora._ Can _you_ [accomplish] anything, since a dead father has not been able to kindle discord in their minds? For Chimène clearly shows by her behavior that hatred to-day does not cause her pursuit. She obtains the [privilege of a] combat, and for her champion, she accepts on the moment the first that offers. She has not recourse to those renowned knights [_lit._ noble hands] whom so many famous exploits render so glorious; Don Sancho suffices her, and merits her choice, because he is going to arm himself for the first time; she loves in this duel his want of experience; as he is without renown, [so] is she without apprehension; and her readiness [to accept him], ought to make you clearly see that she seeks for a combat which her duty demands, but which yields her Rodrigo an easy victory, and authorizes her at length to seem appeased.

_Infanta._ I observe it clearly; and nevertheless my heart, in rivalry with Chimène, adores this conqueror. On what shall I resolve, hopeless lover that I am?

_Leonora._ To remember better from whom you are sprung. Heaven owes you a king; you love a subject!

_Infanta._ The object of my attachment has completely changed: I no longer love Rodrigo as a mere nobleman. No; it is not thus that my love entitles him. If I love him, it is [as] the author of so many brilliant deeds; it is [as] the valiant Cid, the master of two kings. I shall conquer myself, however; not from dread of any censure, but in order that I may not disturb so glorious a love; and even though, to favor me, they should crown him, I will not accept again [_lit._ take back] a gift which I have given. Since in such a combat his triumph is certain, let us go once more to give him [_or_, that gift] to Chimène. And thou, who seest the love-arrows with which my heart is pierced; come see me finish as I have begun.