MARIA.
Thanks, thanks. Good-night.
God bless us through these wild, dark hours.
RIBERA.
Good-night.
SCENE II.
RIBERA'S garden. Half the sky illuminated by an over-clouded
moon, the rest obscured by an approaching storm. Occasional
thunder and lightning. On on side of the stage a summer-house
open to the audience, on the other side the exterior of the
dwelling. DON JOHN discovered waiting near the house. The door
opens, and enter MARIA.
DON JOHN (springing forward and embracing her).
At last! at last!
MARIA.
Juan, beware! My father's fears,
I cannot guess by whom or what, are roused.
[She extends her arms gropingly to embrace him.]
Oh, let me feel thee near me—I see naught.
Follow me; here our voices may be heard.
[She hastens towards the summer-house, leaning upon his arm,
and sinks upon a seat.]
Have not slow ages passed with crowding woes
Since we last met! What have I not endured!
Oh, Juan, save me!
DON JOHN.
Dearest child, be calm.
Thou art strangely overwrought. Speak not. Await
Till this wild fear be past.
MARIA.
How great you are!
Your simple presence stills and comforts me.
While you are here, the one thing real to me
In all the universe is love.
DON JOHN.
And yet
My love is here, if I be far or nigh.
Is this the spirit of a soldier's wife?
Nay, fiery courage, iron fortitude,
That soul must own that dares to say, "I love."
MARIA.
And I dare say it. I can bear the worst
That envious fate may heap upon my head,
If thou art with me, or for hope of thee.
DON JOHN.
Art sure of that? Thou couldst not part from me,
Even for thy father's sake?