SCENE I. Gypsies, Musicians, etc. ACT I The COUNT OF LARA's chambers. Night. The COUNT in his dressing-gown, smoking and conversing with DON CARLOS. Lara. You were not at the play to-night, Don Carlos How happened it? ; Don C. I had engagements elsewhere. Pray who was there? Lara. Why, all the town and court. The house was crowded; and the busy fans Among the gayly dressed and perfumed ladies Fluttered like butterflies flowers. among the There was the Countess of Medina Celi ; And Doña Serafina, and her cousins. Lara. It was a dull affair; One of those comedies in which you see, There were three duels fought in the first act, Three gentlemen receiving deadly wounds, Laying their hands upon their hearts, and saying, "Oh, I am dead!" a lover in a closet, An old hidalgo, and a gay Don Juan, A Doña Inez with a black mantilla, Followed at twilight by an unknown lover, Who looks intently where he knows she is not! Don C. Of course, the Preciosa danced to-night? Lara. And never better. Every footstep fell As lightly as a sunbeam on the water. woman! I saw her in the Prado yesterday. her face queen-like, and As beautiful as a saint's in Paradise. Lara. May not a saint fall from her Paradise, And be no more a saint? Don C. Why do you ask? Lara. Because I have heard it said this angel fell, And though she is a virgin outwardly, Within she is a sinner; like those panels Of doors and altar-pieces the old monks Painted in convents, with the Virgin Mary On the outside, and on the inside Venus ! Don C. You do her wrong; indeed, you do her wrong! She is as virtuous as she is fair. Lara. How credulous you are! Why, look you, friend, There's not a virtuous woman in Madrid, In this whole city! And would you persuade me That a mere dancing-girl, who shows herself, Nightly, half naked, on the stage, for money, And with voluptuous motions fires the blood Of inconsiderate youth, is to be held A model for her virtue ? Don C. She is a Gypsy girl. Lara. The easier. Don C. You forget And therefore won Nay, not to be won at all! The only virtue that a Gypsy prizes Is chastity. That is her only virtue. Dearer than life she holds it. I remem ber A Gypsy woman, a vile, shameless bawd, Whose craft was to betray the young and fair; And yet this woman was above all bribes. And when a noble lord, touched by her beauty, The wild and wizard beauty of her race, Offered her gold to be what she made others, She turned upon him, with a look of scorn, And smote him in the face! Lara. And does that prove That Preciosa is above suspicion ? Don C. It proves a nobleman may be repulsed When he thinks conquest easy. I believe That woman, in her deepest degradation, Holds something sacred, something undefiled, Some pledge and keepsake of her higher nature, And, like the diamond in the dark, retains Some quenchless gleam of the celestial light! Lara. Yet Preciosa would have taken the gold. Don C. (rising). I do not think so. Don C. "T is late. I must begone, for if I stay You will not be persuaded. Lara. Yes; persuade me. Don C. No one so deaf as he who will not hear! Lara. No one so blind as he who will not see ! Don C. And so good night. I wish you pleasant dreams, And greater faith in woman. Lara. [Exit. Greater faith! I have the greatest faith; for I believe That I shall be to-morrow; and thereafter |