Scene Two
The same, without Cleofas. Don Enrique, Ramiro, Torillo
Enrique. (Calling Ramiro, who is giving some orders to his archers) Ramiro!
Ramiro. (Turning and quickly going to him) Ah! my lord! What a relief your deliverance is to those who love you! (He kisses his hand.) And what joy you, yourself, must feel!
Enrique. I am very sad, Ramiro, at the sight of the pyre.
Ramiro. Has Your Honor not come to await the arrival of this creature?
Enrique. Guilty as she is, I have loved her too well not to pity her. Tell Torillo to come here and consult with me. (Ramiro speaks in a low tone to Torillo. The songs in the church cease, Ramiro goes to the archers. Torilla goes to Enrique in the foreground.) Are you the person who compels the condemned ones to mount the pyres?
Torillo. Yes, my lord, and I also light the fires.
Enrique. How can you sleep after doing such work?
Torillo. From habit.
Enrique. You often save the victims from the horror of being burned alive, do you not?
Torillo. Yes, when the Holy Tribunal gives orders to strangle them and attach them to the stake!
Enrique. You have not received such an order for her?
Torillo. No, my lord.
Enrique. They tell me that the parents or friends of the condemned frequently ask such a favor of you?
Torillo. It is true, my lord.
Enrique. And do you consent to give it?
Torillo. For charity.
Enrique. And for your own advantage, also?
Torillo. Those are my little profits.
Enrique. That must be done for her.—What price have you set upon such concessions?
Torillo. I shall leave that to the judgment of Your Grace. But, being an honest man, I must tell you that a similar request has been made.
Enrique. By whom?
Torillo. By a woman-servant, she told me, in the service of the condemned.
Enrique. Aisha?
Torillo. I do not know.
Enrique. Has she paid you?
Torillo. She has given me ten ducats for agreeing to give to the Mooress a little waxen pill the instant that I untie her hands for public penance.
Enrique. Yes! yes! I understand!—You have consented?
Torillo. I promised without fully deciding to do so! But, now that Your Grace desires it also——
Enrique. Ah! God, yes!—and you shall have a thousand ducats tomorrow!
Torillo. The bargain is concluded, señor.
He turns to go.
Enrique. (Detaining him with a gesture) But how can you prove to me that you will keep your promise?
Torillo. Because the victim will not utter a cry when I set fire to the pyre; if she restrains then she is dead.
Enrique. If she is unable to utter a cry, or a groan, I will double the sum.
Torillo. The bargain is settled, my lord.
He salutes and goes away. Enrique turns to enter the church. Bells begin to toll. The assistants go to the foot of the stage to await the arrival of the procession. In the distance are heard sounds of the mob preceding the condemned.
Enrique. (With eyes turned toward the upper street) Is that you, Oliveira?—Doña Joana?
Oliveira. The same all of the time. (The distant noises are approaching.) Here comes that unfortunate woman.
Enrique. Yes! it is she!—Ah, Oliveira, who could believe, if she had not confessed it herself, that this exquisite creature is a detestable magician?
Oliviera. (In a low voice) Oh! her confessions! (Enrique, surprised, turns and looks at him.) Don Enrique, you are a man who can rely on himself. When night comes, I shall leave Toledo for I have much to fear because I have expressed myself too frankly concerning this poor woman, who is no more a sorceress than we are magicians, you and me!
Enrique. (Troubled) Is it possible!—But her confessions, her confessions?
Oliveira. They wrung them from her when they promised your freedom, her sorcery giving you an excuse.
Enrique. And when she cried to me: “It is false! It is false!”——
The sounds come nearer.
Oliveira. She, you see, had condemned herself to the stake!
Enrique. Oh! brute that I am!—I have not understood!
Oliveira. (Trying to calm him) Be careful! Enrique. Must I be a coward!—I could hack myself into pieces!
Oliveira. (Holding him) In God’s name, do nothing foolish! There remains one more chance for you.
Enrique. (Quickly) Joana?
Oliveira. Yes!—Be careful, or they will hear us!
At this instant the mob invades the place from all sides. The people are impatient and unruly and the archers rush in from the upper street, shouting, and restrain them. The cathedral door opens wide. Calabazas, Albornos, Ibarra and Molina come out, followed by other Franciscan and Dominican monks, who group themselves under the portal, while a funeral march is played on the organ. The bells continue to toll. Oliveira quickly leaves by one of the streets. Enrique crosses the scene and disappears in the crowd. The archers have great difficulty in keeping open a passage for the procession, which slowly enters from the upper street. The clamors of the mob are redoubled. Six archers of the Inquisition, dressed in black, lead the cortége, followed by six Franciscan monks carrying candles and murmuring prayers. Then appear two lantern-bearers, followed by a porter carrying a figure of Christ shaded by a small black dais, and Zoraya with hands tied and dressed in san-benito. Gil Andrès and his two assistants follow. Behind them come four Franciscan monks carrying torches. The archers and the monks arrange themselves at the left in the foreground. The lantern-bearers and the porter carrying the crucifix stop before the pyre. Zoraya, escorted by Gil Andrès and his aides, halts in front of the portal. While the procession is marching, the bells ring, the organ plays and the mob hurls insults at the condemned woman.