SCENE VII.

Viceroy: Sancho——

Sancho: Enter sir! So great an honor!—

V.: I have already told you, Sancho, that I love you as a son. It is not the Viceroy of Mexico, who comes now to your house. I enter it as a friend. Receive me as such.

S.: And—to what, then, do I owe this pleasure? Seat yourself, sir, seat yourself.

(The Viceroy seats himself.)

V.: I come to you, Sancho, because I am most unhappy.

S.: (With pleasure.) You, most unhappy!

V.: Yes. If you knew——

S.: And what has happened to you? Let me know—but allow me to close this door because a draught enters. (He bolts the door that communicates with the interior and through which Blanca had passed.) Ah, well! sir! what makes you unhappy? It seems incredible; a man, powerful, rich, immensely rich, cradled from infancy in the arms of fortune—Perhaps, your wife!——

V.: My wife?—No! My wife has never been able to make me unhappy, just as she has never made me happy. We have never loved. I married her for family reasons and, in fine——

S.: I do not understand, then——

V.: Hear me, Sancho! For many years my only good, my only joy, my sole delight in this world, has been a lovely girl——

S.: Yes, yes,—a lovely girl who has grown up, receiving her education, in the Convent of Seville.

V.: You know it! (Profoundly surprised.)

S.: And whom you brought with you to Mexico, two years ago.

V.: Yes.

S.: You lodged her with the Sisters of the Conception where you caused her to be loved and respected as if she were your daughter.

V.: That is true!

S.: You visited her daily, secretly, at evening——

V.: Yes, because——

S.: You have already said it. Because you loved her with all your soul——

V.: With all my soul! but——

S.: But they have robbed you of her. (Very brief pause.)

V.: (Approaching Sancho, with great emotion.) And you, you Sancho, know this also!

S.: As I tell you——

V.: And, who, who has been—? Who—? Do not tell me his name, that matters nothing! Tell me where he is,—tell me that—because I desire his life’s blood.

S.: Calm, Señor Viceroy, more calm!

V.: Calm! and she is not at my side—Calm! and the hours pass.—Calm! and the grief increases and the suffering grows stronger, and despair kills!

S.: You suffer greatly!

V.: Tell me who it is, Sancho! You know it. I see it in your eyes.—Tell me.—You know that here I am the equal of the King! The King, himself, is not more powerful than I! Ask, from me, riches, honor, position,—all, all, for your single word! Speak! You know! Is it not so?

S.: Yes. It is true.

V.: Oh, joy! And you will tell me!

S.: No.

V.: (Furious.) No?—You will not tell me, you? (He directs himself toward the door, raising his voice)—Halloa, here!

S.: (Gently detaining him.) Ah! I will close this door because a draught enters. (Locks the door with a key. The Viceroy looks at him with frightened surprise.)

V.: Sancho!—Are you making sport of me? Are you trifling with my agony?—But, no, no, you would not be capable of that, impossible.—You are not an ingrate.

S.: Seat yourself, Señor Viceroy, and hear me.

V.: Seat myself?—Good, I obey you—Now, you see—I seat myself.—But you must tell it me.

S.: Listen. Only last night, Señor Viceroy, I told you that Juan de Paredes,—the person who has been recommended to you——

V.: My God! but—and, what has this to do?

S.: If you are not calm——!

V.: Sancho!

S.: If you are not calm, I will say nothing and then you would know nothing, even if you put me to the torture.

V.: Well! well!—I am silent—I listen—What anxiety!

S.: Juan de Paredes, unhappy orphan, entrusted to a friend—very intimate—in fact a second self—the mission of avenging his wrongs upon the person who dishonored his mother, Doña Mencia, and assassinated his father—and this firm friend finally discovered the scoundrel—ah, he was a man of great power!

V.: And you know his name?

S.: If you interrupt——

V.: I am silent.

S.: The good friend of Juan de Paredes succeeded in approaching—then in speaking with—and, later, in introducing himself into the house of—and, soon in ingratiating himself in the heart of the criminal.—He spied upon him as the wolf-hunter spies upon his prey,—scrutinized his movements—informed himself of his most insignificant actions. He studied his character, his most hidden motives; he followed him everywhere and at all times and at last discovered the place—the place in which the lair of the beast was hidden! He had but a single love on earth!—And there he fixed his eyes, because fixing his eyes there he thrust a dagger into the assassin’s heart.—Not into his heart, no,—into his very soul!—Because, that love was his daughter—a lovely maiden!——

V.: Continue——!

S.: She gave him evidences of her love.

V.: Continue——!

S.: She loved him with all the blindness and strength of a first love.

V.: And he——?

S.: He did not love her!

Blanca: (From within, with a feeble cry.) Aye!

V.: That cry——

S.: A cry?—Did you hear a cry?

V.: I thought—perhaps, no—I deceived myself,—continue.

S.: And one night—at night!

V.: I know it, now!—Be still! his name!

S.: He stole her—to dishonor her——

V.: Silence.

S.: To defile her——

V.: To defile her!—and, she?

Blanca: (Within.) Open. (Violently shakes the door.)

S.: Hear her.

V.: There—she, there! Wretch—! What have you done? You shall die. (Placing his hand on his swordhilt.)

S.: Yes, yes! Come on, infamous assassin; because, I abhor you as I do her.