Isid. When a boy, my lord! I could have sate whole hours beside that chasm, Ord. Art thou more coward now? Isid. Call him that fears his fellow-man a coward ! I fear not man-but this inhuman cavern, It were too bad a prison house for goblins. But only being afraid-stifled with fear! While every goodly or familiar form Had a strange power of breathing terror round me! I saw you in a thousand fearful shapes; And I entreat your lordship to believe me, In my last dream Ord. Isid. Well? I was in the act Of falling down that chasm, when Alhadra Wak'd me she heard my heart beat. Ord. Had you been here before? Isid. Strange enough! Never, my lord! But mine eyes do not see it now more clearly, Than in my dream I saw-that very chasm. Ord. (after a pause.) I know not why it should be! yet it is Ord. Why that's my case; and yet the soul recoils from it'Tis so with me at least. But you, perhaps, Have sterner feelings? Isid. Something troubles you. How shall I serve you? By the life you gave me, By all that makes that life of value to me, No, nor propose a wicked thing. The darkness, One of our family knew this place well. Isid. Who? when? my lord? Ord. What boots it, who or when? Hang up thy torch-I'll tell his tale to thee. [They hang up their torches on some ridge in the cavern. He was a man different from other men, And he despised them, yet revered himself. Isid. (aside.) He? He despise? Thou'rt speaking of thyself! I am on my guard however: no surprise. What, he was mad? Ord. [Then to Ordonio. All men seemed mad to him! Nature had made him for some other planet, And pressed his soul into a human shape By accident or malice. In this world. He found no fit companion. Isid. Of himself he speaks. [aside. Alas! poor wretch ! He walked alone. Mad men are mostly proud. Ord. And phantom thoughts unsought-for troubled him. To this in moody murmur and low voice Why didst thou look round? In truth he is my darling. As I went From forth my door, he made a moan in sleep- And what did this man ? Ord. With this human hand He gave a substance and reality To that wild fancy of a possible thing.- Why babblest thou of guilt? The deed was done, and it passed fairly off. Though you began this cloudy tale at midnight. Ord. Where was I? Isid. He of whom you tell the tale- Ord. Surveying all things with a quiet scorn, [Ordonio grasps his sword, and turns off from Isidore, then after a pause returns. Our links burn dimly. Isid. A dark tale darkly finished! Nay, my lord! Tell what he did. Ord. That which his wisdom prompted VOL. VII. R He made the traitor meet him in this cavern, And here he kill'd the traitor. Isid. Ord. Thou wouldst not then have come, if- I would have met him arm'd, and scar'd the coward. [Isidore throws off his robe; shows himself armed, and draws his sword. Ord. Now this is excellent and warms the blood! My heart was drawing back, drawing me back With weak and womanish scruples. Now my vengeance And claims that life, my pity robbed her of-- Isid. And all my little ones fatherless Die thou first. [They fight, Ordonio disarms Isidore, and in disarming him throws his sword up that recess opposite to which they were standing. Isidore hurries into the recess with his torch, Ordonio follows him; a loud cry of “Traitor! Monster!" is heard from the cavern, and in a moment Ordonio returns alone. Ord. I have hurled him down the chasm! treason for treason. He dreamt of it: henceforward let him sleep, A dreamless sleep, from which no wife can wake him. His dream too is made out—now for his friend. [Exit Ordonio. SCENE II.* The interior Court of a Saracenic or Gothic Castle, with the iron gate of a dungeon visible. Ter. Heart-chilling superstition! thou canst glaze Ev'n pity's eye with her own frozen tear. * See Appendix. p. 403. In vain I urge the tortures that await him: But my resolve is fixed! myself will rescue him, Enter Valdez. Val. Still sad?—and gazing at the massive door Of that fell dungeon which thou ne'er had'st sight of, Save what, perchance, thy infant fancy shap'd it When the nurse still'd thy cries with unmeant threats. Now by my faith, girl! this same wizard haunts thee! A stately man, and eloquent and tender Who then need wonder if a lady sighs Even at the thought of what these stern Dominicans-- Doth so o'ertop the height of all compassion, If it were possible I could feel more, Even though the dearest inmates of our household Were doom'd to suffer them. That such things are-Val. Hush, thoughtless woman! Ter. More than a woman's spirit. Val. Nay, it wakes within me No more of this What if Monviedro or his creatures hear us! I dare not listen to you. Ter. |