Act the Third.
Scene I.—Don Rodrigo and Elvira.
Elvira. Rodrigo, what hast them done? Whence comest thou, unhappy man?
Don Rodrigo. Here [i.e. to the house of Chimène], to follow out the sad course of my miserable destiny.
Elvira. Whence obtainest thou this audacity, and this new pride, of appearing in places which thou hast filled with mourning? What! dost thou come even here to defy the shade of the Count? Hast thou not slain him?
Don Rodrigo. His existence was my shame; my honor required this deed from my [reluctant] hand.
Elvira. But to seek thy asylum in the house of the dead! Has ever a murderer made such his refuge?
Don Rodrigo. And I come here only to yield myself to my judge. Look no more on me with astonishment [lit. an eye amazed]; I seek death after having inflicted it. My love is my judge; my judge is my Chimène. I deserve death for deserving her hatred, and I am come to receive, as a supreme blessing, its decree from her lips, and its stroke from her hand.
Elvira. Fly rather from her sight, fly from her impetuosity; conceal your presence from her first excitement. Go! do not expose yourself to the first impulses which the fiery indignation of her resentment may give vent to.
Don Rodrigo. No, no. This beloved one, whom I [could] so displease, cannot have too wrathful a desire for my punishment; and I avoid a hundred deaths which are going to crush me if, by dying sooner, I can redouble it [i.e. that wrath].
Elvira. Chimène is at the palace, bathed in tears, and will return but too well accompanied. Rodrigo, fly! for mercy's sake relieve me from my uneasiness! What might not people say if they saw you here? Do you wish that some slanderer, to crown her misery, should accuse her of tolerating here the slayer of her father? She will return; she is coming—I see her; at least, for the sake of her honor, Rodrigo, conceal thyself! [Rodrigo conceals himself.]
Scene II.—Don Sancho, Chimène, and Elvira.
Don Sancho. Yes, lady, you require a victim [or revenge] steeped in blood [lit. for you there is need of bleeding victims]; your wrath is just and your tears legitimate, and I do not attempt, by dint of speaking, either to soothe you or to console you. But, if I may be capable of serving you, employ my sword to punish the guilty [one], employ my love to revenge this death; under your commands my arm will be [only] too strong.
Chimène. Unhappy that I am!
Don Sancho. I implore you, accept my services.
Chimène. I should offend the King, who has promised me justice.
Don Sancho. You know that justice [lit. it] proceeds with such slowness, that very often crime escapes in consequence of its delay, its slow and doubtful course causes us to lose too many tears. Permit that a cavalier may avenge you by [force of] arms; that method is more certain and more prompt in punishing.
Chimène. It is the last remedy; and if it is necessary to have recourse to it, and your pity for my misfortunes still continues, you shall then be free to avenge my injury.
Don Sancho. It is the sole happiness to which my soul aspires; and, being able to hope for it, I depart too well contented.
Scene III.—Chimène and Elvira.
Chimène. At last I see myself free, and I can, without constraint, show thee the extent of my keen sorrows; I can give vent to my sad sighs; I can unbosom to thee my soul and all my griefs. My father is dead, Elvira; and the first sword with which Rodrigo armed himself has cut his thread of life. Weep, weep, mine eyes, and dissolve yourselves into tears! The one half of my life [i.e. Rodrigo] has laid the other [half, i.e. my father] in the grave, and compels me to revenge, after this fatal blow, that which I have no more [i.e. my father] on that which still remains to me [i.e. Rodrigo].
Elvira. Calm yourself, dear lady.
Chimène. Ah! how unsuitably, in a misfortune so great, thou speakest of calmness. By what means can my sorrow ever be appeased, if I cannot hate the hand which has caused it? And what ought I to hope for but a never-ending anguish if I follow up a crime, still loving the criminal.
Elvira. He deprives you of a father, and you still love him?
Chimène. It is too little to say love, Elvira; I adore him! My passion opposes itself to my resentment; in mine enemy I find my lover, and I feel that in spite of all my rage Rodrigo is still contending against my sire in my heart. He attacks it, he besieges it; it yields, it defends itself; at one time strong, at one time weak, at another triumphant. But in this severe struggle between wrath and love, he rends my heart without shaking my resolution, and although my love may have power over me, I do not consult it [or, hesitate] to follow my duty. I speed on [lit. run] without halting [or, weighing the consequences] where my honor compels me. Rodrigo is very dear to me; the interest I feel in him grieves me; my heart takes his part, but, in spite of its struggles, I know what I am [i.e. a daughter], and that my father is dead.
Elvira. Do you think of pursuing [or, persecuting] him?
Chimène. Ah! cruel thought! and cruel pursuit to which I see myself compelled. I demand his head [or, life] and I dread to obtain it; my death will follow his, and [yet] I wish to punish him!
Elvira. Abandon, abandon, dear lady, a design so tragic, and do not impose on yourself such a tyrannical law.
Chimène. What! my father being dead and almost in my arms—shall his blood cry for revenge and I not obtain it? My heart, shamefully led away by other spells, would believe that it owed him only ineffectual tears. And can I endure that an insidious love, beneath a dastardly apathy, should extinguish my resolution [lit. beneath a cowardly silence extinguish my honor]?
Elvira. Dear lady, believe me, you would be excusable in having less wrath against an object so beloved, against a lover so dear; you have done enough, you have seen the King; do not urge on the result [of that interview]. Do not persist in this morbid [lit. strange] humor.
Chimène. My honor is at stake; I must avenge myself; and, however the desires of love may beguile us, all excuse [for not doing one's duty] is disgraceful to [i.e. in the estimation of] noble-minded souls.
Elvira. But you love Rodrigo—he cannot offend you.
Chimène. I confess it.
Elvira. After all, what then do you intend to do?
Chimène. To preserve my honor and to end my sorrow; to pursue him, to destroy him, and to die after him.
Scene IV.—Don Rodrigo, Chimène, and Elvira.
Don Rodrigo. Well then, without giving you the trouble of pursuing me, secure for yourself the honor of preventing me from living.
Chimène. Elvira, where are we, and what do I see? Rodrigo in my house! Rodrigo before me!
Don Rodrigo. Spare not my blood; enjoy [lit. taste], without resistance, the pleasure of my destruction and of your vengeance.
Chimène. Alas!
Don Rodrigo. Listen to me.
Chimène. I am dying.
Don Rodrigo. One moment.
Chimène. Go, let me die!
Don Rodrigo. Four words only; afterwards reply to me only with this sword!
Chimène. What! still imbrued with the blood of my father!
Don Rodrigo. My Chimène.
Chimène. Remove from my sight this hateful object, which brings as a reproach before mine eyes thy crime and thy existence.
Don Rodrigo. Look on it rather to excite thy hatred, to increase thy wrath and to hasten my doom.
Chimène. It is dyed with my [father's] blood!
Don Rodrigo. Plunge it in mine, and cause it thus to lose the death-stain of thine own.
Chimène. Ah! what cruelty, which all in one day slays the father by the sword [itself], and the daughter by the sight of it! Remove this object, I cannot endure it; thou wished me to listen to thee, and thou causest me to die!
Don Rodrigo. I do what thou wishest, but without abandoning the desire of ending by thy hands my lamentable life; for, in fine, do not expect [even] from my affection a dastardly repentance of a justifiable [lit. good] action. The irreparable effect of a too hasty excitement dishonored my father and covered me with shame. Thou knowest how a blow affects a man of courage. I shared in the insult, I sought out its author, I saw him, I avenged my honor and my father; I would do it again if I had it to do. Not that, indeed, my passion did not long struggle for thee against my father and myself; judge of its power—under such an insult, I was able to deliberate whether I should take vengeance for it! Compelled to displease thee or to endure an affront, I thought that in its turn my arm was too prompt [to strike]; I accused myself of too much impetuosity, and thy loveliness, without doubt, would have turned the scale [or, prevailed overall] had I not opposed to thy strongest attractions the [thought] that a man without honor would not merit thee; that, in spite of this share which I had in thy affections, she who loved me noble would hate me shamed; that to listen to thy love, to obey its voice, would be to render myself unworthy of it and to condemn thy choice. I tell thee still, and although I sigh at it, even to my last sigh I will assuredly repeat it, I have committed an offence against thee, and I was driven to [or, bound to commit] it to efface my shame and to merit thee; but discharged [from my duty] as regards honor, and discharged [from duty] towards my father, it is now to thee that I come to give satisfaction—it is to offer to thee my blood that thou seest me in this place. I did my duty [lit. that which I ought to have done] then, I still do it now. I know that a slain [lit. dead] father arms thee against my offence; I have not wished to rob thee of thy victim; sacrifice with courage to the blood he has lost he who constitutes his glory in having shed it.
Chimène. Ah, Rodrigo, it is true, although thine enemy, I cannot blame thee for having shunned disgrace; and in whatever manner my griefs burst forth I do not accuse [thee], I [only] lament my misfortunes. I know what honor after such an insult demanded with ardor of a generous courage; thou hast only done the duty of a man of honor, but also in doing that [duty] thou hast taught me mine. Thy fatal valor has instructed me by thy victory—it has avenged thy father and maintained thy glory. The same care concerns me, and I have to add to my infliction [lit. to afflict me] my fame to sustain and my father to avenge. Alas! thy fate [or, your share] in this drives me to despair! If any other misfortune had taken from me my father, my soul would have found in the happiness of seeing thee the only relief which it could have received, and in opposition to my grief I should have felt a fond delight [lit. charm or a magic soothing] when a hand so dear would have wiped away my tears. But I must lose thee after having lost him. This struggle over my passion is due to my honor, and this terrible duty, whose [imperious] command is slaying me, compels me to exert myself [lit. labor or work] for thy destruction. For, in fine, do not expect from my affection any morbid [lit. cowardly] feelings as to thy punishment. However strongly my love may plead in thy favor, my steadfast courage must respond to thine. Even in offending me, thou hast proved thyself worthy of me; I must, by thy death, prove myself worthy of thee.
Don Rodrigo. Defer, then, no longer that which honor commands. It demands my head [or, life], and I yield it to thee; make a sacrifice of it to this noble duty; the [death] stroke will be welcome [lit. sweet], as well as the doom. To await, after my crime, a tardy justice, is to defer thine honor as well as my punishment. I should die too happy in dying by so delightful a [death] blow!
Chimène. Go [i.e. no]; I am thy prosecutor, and not thy executioner. If thou offerest me thine head, is it for me to take it; I ought to attack it, but thou oughtest to defend it. It is from another than thee that I must obtain it, and it is my duty [lit. I ought] to pursue thee, but not to punish thee.
Don Rodrigo. However in my favor our love may plead, thy steadfast courage ought to correspond to mine; and to borrow other arms to avenge a father is, believe me, my Chimène, not the [method of] responding to it. My hand alone was fit [lit. has understood how] to avenge the insult offered to my father; thy hand alone ought to take vengeance for thine.
Chimène. O cruel! for what reason shouldst thou persevere on this point? Thou hast avenged thyself without aid, and dost thou wish to give me thine [aid]? I shall follow thy example; and I have too much courage to endure that my glory shall be divided with thee. My father and mine honor shall owe nothing to the dictates of thy love and of thy despair.
Don Rodrigo. O cruel resolution [lit. point of honor]! Alas! whatever I may do, can I by no means obtain this concession [or, favor]? In the name of a slain [lit. dead] father, or of our friendship, punish me through revenge, or at least through compassion. Thy unhappy lover will have far less pain in dying by thy hand than in living with thy hatred.
Chimène. Go; I do not hate thee.
Don Rodrigo. Thou oughtest to do so.
Chimène. I cannot.
Don Rodrigo. Dost thou so little fear calumny, and so little [fear] false reports? When people shall know my crime, and that thy passion [for me] still continues, what will not envy and deception spread abroad? Compel them to silence, and, without debating more, save thy fair fame by causing me to die.
Chimène. That [fair fame] shines far more gloriously [lit. better] by leaving thee life; and I wish that the voice of the blackest slander should raise to heaven my honor, and lament my griefs, knowing that I worship thee, and that [still] I pursue thee [as a criminal]. Go, then; present no more to my unbounded grief that which I [must] lose, although I love it [him]! In the shades of night carefully conceal thy departure; if they see thee going forth, my honor runs a risk. The only opportunity which slander can have is to know that I have tolerated thy presence here. Give it no opportunity to assail my honor.
Don Rodrigo. Let me die.
Chimène. Nay, leave me.
Don Rodrigo. On what art thou resolved?
Chimène. In spite of the glorious love-fires which impede [lit. trouble] my wrath, I will do my utmost to avenge my father; but, in spite of the sternness of such a cruel duty, my sole desire is to be able to accomplish nothing [against thee].
Don Rodrigo. O wondrous love [lit. miracle of love]!
Chimène. O accumulation of sorrows!
Don Rodrigo. What misfortunes and tears will our fathers cost us!
Chimène. Rodrigo, who would have believed——?
Don Rodrigo. Chimène, who would have said——?
Chimène. That our happiness was so near, and would so soon be ruined?
Don Rodrigo. And that so near the haven, contrary to all appearances [or, expectation], a storm so sudden should shatter our hopes?
Chimène. O deadly griefs!
Don Rodrigo. O vain regrets!
Chimène. Go, then, again [I beseech thee]; I can listen to thee no more.
Don Rodrigo. Adieu! I go to drag along a lingering life, until it be torn from me by thy pursuit.
Chimène. If I obtain my purpose, I pledge to thee my faith to exist not a moment after thee. Adieu! Go hence, and, above all, take good care that you are not observed. [Exit Don Rodrigo.]
Elvira. Dear lady, whatever sorrows heaven sends us——
Chimène. Trouble me no more; let me sigh. I seek for silence and the night in order to weep.
Scene V.—Don Diego.
Never do we experience [lit. taste] perfect joy. Our most fortunate successes are mingled with sadness; always some cares, [even] in the [successful] events, mar the serenity of our satisfaction. In the midst of happiness my soul feels their pang: I float in joy, and I tremble with fear. I have seen [lying] dead the enemy who had insulted me, yet I am unable to find [lit. see] the hand which has avenged me. I exert myself in vain, and with a useless anxiety. Feeble [lit. broken down; or, shattered] though I am, I traverse all the city; this slight degree of vigor, that my advanced years have left me, expends itself fruitlessly in seeking this conqueror. At every moment, at all places, in a night so dark, I think that I embrace him, and I embrace only a shadow; and my love, beguiled by this deceitful object, forms for itself suspicions which redouble my fear. I do not discover any traces of his flight. I fear the dead Count's friends and retinue; their number terrifies me, and confounds my reason. Rodrigo lives no more, or breathes in prison! Just heavens! do I still deceive myself with a shadow only [lit. an appearance], or do I see, at last, my only hope? It is he; I doubt it no more. My prayers are heard, my fear is dispelled, and my trouble ended.
Scene VI.—Don Diego and Don Rodrigo.
Don Diego. Rodrigo at last heaven permits that I should behold thee!
Don Rodrigo. Alas!
Don Diego. Mingle not sighs with my joy; let me take breath in order to praise thee. My valor has no reason to disown thee; thou hast well imitated it, and thy brilliant prowess causes the heroes of my race to live again in thee! It is from them that thou descendest, it is from me that thou art sprung. Thy first combat [lit. sword-stroke] equals all of mine, and thy youth, fired with a splendid enthusiasm, by this great proof equals [or, reaches to] my renown. Prop of mine age, and sum of my happiness, touch these white hairs, to which thou restorest honor! Come, kiss this cheek, and recognize the place on which was branded the insult which thy courage effaces!
Don Rodrigo. The honor of it belongs to you. I could not do less, being sprung from you, and trained under your careful instruction [lit. cares]. I consider myself too happy [at the result], and my soul is delighted that my first combat [or, maiden-stroke] pleases him to whom I owe existence. But, amidst your gladness, be not jealous if, in my turn, I dare to satisfy myself after you. Permit that in freedom my despair may burst forth; enough and for too long your discourse has soothed it. I do not repent having served you; but give me back the blessing which that [death] blow has deprived me of. My arms, in order to serve you, battling against my passion, by this [otherwise] glorious deed have deprived me of my love. Say no more to me: for you I have lost all; what I owed you I have well repaid.
Don Diego. Carry, carry still higher the effect [lit. fruit] of thy victory. I have given thee life, and thou restorest to me my honor; and as much as honor is dearer to me than life, so much now I owe thee in return. But spurn this weakness from a noble heart; we have but one honor—there are many mistresses. Love is but a pleasure; honor is a duty.
Don Rodrigo. Ah! what do you say to me?
Don Diego. That which you ought to know.
Don Rodrigo. My outraged honor takes vengeance on myself, and you dare to urge me to the shame of inconstancy! Disgrace is the same, and follows equally the soldier without courage and the faithless lover. Do no wrong, then, to my fidelity; allow me [to be] brave without rendering myself perfidious [perjured]. My bonds are too strong to be thus broken—my faith still binds me, though I [may] hope no more; and, not being able to leave nor to win Chimène, the death which I seek is my most welcome [lit. sweeter] penalty.
Don Diego. It is not yet time to seek death; thy prince and thy country have need of thine arm. The fleet, as was feared, having entered this great river, hopes to surprise the city and to ravage the country. The Moors are going to make a descent, and the tide and the night may, within an hour, bring them noiselessly to our walls. The court is in disorder, the people in dismay; we hear only cries, we see only tears. In this public calamity, my good fortune has so willed it that I have found [thronging] to my house five hundred of my friends, who, knowing the insult offered to me, impelled by a similar zeal, came all to offer themselves to avenge my quarrel. Thou hast anticipated them; but their valiant hands will be more nobly steeped in the blood of Africans. Go, march at their head where honor calls thee; it is thou whom their noble band would have as a leader. Go, resist the advance of these ancient enemies; there, if thou wishest to die, find a glorious death. Seize the opportunity, since it is presented to thee; cause your King to owe his safety to your loss; but rather return from that battle-field [lit. from it] with the laurels on thy brow. Limit not thy glory to the avenging of an insult; advance that glory still further; urge by thy valor this monarch to pardon, and Chimène to peace. If thou lovest her, learn that to return as a conqueror is the sole means of regaining her heart. But time is too precious to waste in words; I stop thee in thine attempted answer, and desire that thou fly [to the rescue]. Come, follow me; go to the combat, and show the King that what he loses in the Count he regains in thee.