Diego. So it should seem, since I find myself in your way.
High-Priest. Are you not Don Alonzo’s attendant?
Diego. You are not very wide of the truth.
High-Priest. If you be not well acquainted with this wood, you are in great danger of losing yourself. Accompany me, and I will conduct you in a short time into the right path.
Diego. (Assuming an angry tone) Who told you that I was in the wrong path?—Signor High-Priest, I would have you to know, that neither in Castile nor Arragon, neither in Grenada nor Murcia, no, nor in any other of the countries belonging to my king, by whatsoever name distinguished, has any mother’s son ever been known to excel Diego in valour and virtue.
High-Priest. (smiling) I readily believe it. And what gives the greater currency to this assurance is, that it is uttered by yourself.
Diego. It was forcibly extorted by you, from my modesty.
High-Priest. Pardon me!—And now permit me to request an explanation of this riddle?—How can you be wandering at night in so wild a spot as this, and yet be in the right way?—Are you alone, or is your master near?—What is it you want?—for never can I be persuaded that you come hither only for a walk.
Diego. (with hesitation) Since you press me so closely then—I—must confess—that—I am in love.
High-Priest. (smiling) You are in love?