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_San._ 'Tis here that we fought, and hereabouts should be the body.
_Nina._ (_fearfully pointing to the body._) What's that? Sancho, it is--it is my husband! (_Bursts into tears._)
_San._ Why do you grieve? Did you not wish him dead?
_Nina._ Alas! we often wish what we do not really want, prompted by the anger of the moment. What, in our selfish views, seems nothing at the time, becomes most horrible in the reality. Alas, poor Lopez! (_Weeps._)
_San._ Why, Nina, did he not basely leave you? Forgot his vow to love and cherish you? Holy Saint Petronila! why, then, do you love and cherish him? Come, dry your eyes, Nina; he's not worth a tear. (_Kisses her hand._)
_Nina._ From no one, I will grant, except from me. But there's a feeling in the heart of woman, you cannot comprehend. Even when it is breaking from ill-treatment, it yearns towards her husband. I must go away, Sancho; I cannot bear to see him--nor you; for you did slay him.
_San._ Where are you going?
_Nina._ I'll meet you in the further walk. [_Exit Nina, sobbing._
_San._ Here's a pretty mess! Women are never of one mind: change, and change, and change for ever. This rascal deserted her at Toledo, took all her money, and her very clothes--and yet she grieves for him. I should not wonder if she rejected me now, believing that I killed him.
(_Going up to Antonio._) How b.l.o.o.d.y he is! Thou filthy carcase of a filthy knave! I've a great mind to have a thrust at thee, that I may swear my sword went through thy body. Saint Petronila bless the idea!
(_Half drawing his sword._) There's some one coming; and if I am found here, with my naked sword, near this b.l.o.o.d.y corpse, I shall be apprehended for his murder. [_Exit hastily._
(_Antonio looks up and then lies down._)
_Enter Beppa._
_Bep._ I cannot find my mistress. She came with me into the garden, worked up to desperation against Don Gaspar, and earnest for his death.
Alas! the tide is turned, and now, in some sequestered spot, she weeps his falsehood. I must go seek her, and steel her heart by praising Isidora. What's here? the body of a man (_going to Antonio_). Why! 'tis Antonio, my worthless husband; alas! and called away without repentance, full of misdeeds and roguery. Heaven pardon him! Whose deed was this?
that villain Garcias'?--if so, he hath but gained the sin; for I would sooner hug an adder, than listen to his wooing. I must seek my mistress; then will I return to give him honest burial, and pay for ma.s.ses for his guilty soul. [_Exit._
[_Antonio rises slowly, resumes his friar's dress, and comes forward._]
_Ant._ That cowardly rascal, Sancho, had nearly brought me to life again, instead of having killed me, as he said he had. Pitiful scoundrel, to thrust at a dead man! He'll never kill one living. Nina, I respect thee; yet must we part, for 'tis evident thou lov'st another.
I'll meet them in this grove, and persuade them to marry. As for Beppa, if I am missing, 'tis clear she'll never look for me. [_Exit._
_Scene IV._
_Another Part of the Garden._
_Enter Nina and Sancho._
_Nina._ Nay, no more, Sancho. To me there's something dreadful in such a hasty fresh espousal. My husband's body yet uninterred, still would you have me enter into fresh bonds.
_San._ He was no husband to you, Nina, but a worthless wretch, who deceived you. Remember, it is for years that I have loved you. Saint Petronila be my witness.
_Nina._ I know it, Sancho, and wish I had never married Lopez. Why did you leave me?
_San._ I could but leave you, when I followed my master: but remember, when we parted, I offered you my troth. You have been unjust to me, and owe some reparation; by Saint Petronila, you do!
_Nina._ And in good time I'll make it, Sancho.
_San._ The present is good time; now we are together, and my master is no more. Come, Nina, keep your promise, and the Saint will reward you.
_Nina._ Nay, Sancho, do not thus persuade me. Were I to yield to your wish, you would hate me after we were married.
_San._ Never; by this kiss (_kisses her_), I swear. I have you now, and will not part with you.
[_Nina throws herself into his arms._
_Enter Antonio in friar's gown and hood._
_Ant._ (_in a feigned voice_). Good hugging people, are you man and wife?
_San._ We are not yet, but soon we hope to be.
_Ant._ The sooner it were better, for this dalliance In the ev'ning, in a sequester'd grove, Is most unseemly, if not dangerous.
Woman, lovest thou this man?--
_Nina._ I do, most holy father.
_Ant._ And I must tell thee, maiden, it were better That you delay no longer. I have witness'd Your stolen embraces; and, by Holy Church!
I think it right that you be married straight, Ere vice usurps the throne that should be held By virtue only. Children, not far from hence There is a chapel, where attending priests Chant holy ma.s.ses for a soul's repose.
There may you join your hands, and there receive The nuptial benediction.
_San._ Nina, you must obey this holy friar, and make me happy; Saint Petronila sent him.
_Nina._ It is against my wish that I consent; yet, father, you know best, although you know not all.
_Ant._ (_aside_). Indeed I do! (_Aloud_) Come with me, my children, I'll point you out the path, to where you may, By holy rites p.r.o.nounced, become one flesh. [_Exeunt._
_Enter Serafina and Beppa._
_Ser._ My distracted mind, like some wild spendthrift, Has drawn upon my heart till it is bankrupt.
G.o.d, how my soul is weary! I fear the sword Of that Don Felix may prevail against him.
He is a man well knit in sinewy strength; Gaspar a boy. O spare him, gracious Heaven!
_Bep._ To wed with Isidora, and with gibes Mock at the tears of Donna Serafina!
Madam, you've not the lofty soul of woman, Or you would act, and not thus vainly talk.
He's lost to you for ever! I've discover'd, That since this noon he hath not left her house, And all's in preparation for their union.
_Ser._ Have they been left together? Then, perchance, She hath been foolish too, and much too fond.
Then will he quit her soon. Truant Gaspar, These arms shall win thee back!
_Bep._ Oh, no!
She is too wise, too prudent, and too good.
Such charms of mind and body she possesses, That all do worship her; but not as one Of us mere mortals. He dare not think of it.
She is too perfect. Gaspar is hers alone, And you--are thrown aside for ever!
_Ser._ Is it so?