Part 16 (2/2)

_Gasp._ Yes; fly to his house. Tell him from me--no, no--tell him no more than I have said already, I'll wait for your return. Haste, haste.

[_Exit Antonio._

A villain of no parentage!--Impostor!

A vile impostor!--He but states the truth, Yet will I crush him, that he hath stumbled On that truth. Yes! of no parentage!--Why-- Why is this constant pining of the heart, As if it felt itself defrauded still Of rights inherent? If I'm basely born Why do I spurn the common herd of men?

The eaglet that regains its liberty, Soars to the sun at once--it is its nature: While meaner birds would hop from spray to spray.

Oh! would I had ne'er been born.-- To-morrow I intend to leave for ever Her whom I love--the sacred walls I hate, In some far distant land to die unheeded.

My Isidora has desired my presence, And strange, admits me in the open day.

Within an hour of this she will receive me, Then must I falter out my last adieu.

This evening also I must meet Don Felix.--

_Re-enter Antonio._

So soon return'd! Hast thou then seen him?

_Ant._ I have, sir; I met him as I gained the door, and your message was duly delivered. He answered, that _he_ would not fail, and that he trusted his _sword_ would not fail either.

_Gasp._ Should his sword fail, I must not return for many days; should it not _fail_, I return no more.

But having balanced thus my brief account Of love and hate, I'll quit fair Spain for ever. [_Exit._

_Ant._ (_taking out a purse_). This purse is a heavy one, but not so heavy as the one I received from Don Felix. I hardly dared deliver the message, but there's seldom profit without danger. I will say this for my master, that he knows the salve for every wound. Let me see--one purse for my intelligence, or rather for keeping my master's secret, and another from Don Felix for betraying it--and a third for a blow. Ah!

here comes Beppa. (_Puts up purse hastily._)

_Enter Beppa._

_Bep._ What's that you've put into your pocket?

_Ant._ Only an empty purse.

_Bep._ It appeared to me well filled.

_Ant._ Appearances are very deceitful. How is your mistress?

_Bep._ Alas! she has watched all night--now the tears pouring down her cheeks, whilst heavy sobs hindered all utterance, and then would she turn to rage, and pace her chamber with frantic gestures. Oh! what a wretch is this Don Gaspar!

_Ant._ He fights this evening.

_Bep._ With whom?

_Ant._ Don Felix--a better match for him than Perez.

_Bep._ They say the former's skilled in fence. Heaven grant his sword may prove the master! Where do they meet?

_Ant._ Nay, that's a secret.

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