"See'st thou not, oh Don Fernando,
Yonder man in sable mantle?"
And the knight spake, kindly smiling,
"Why, 'tis nothing but a shadow."
But the shadow drew anear them,
'Twas a man in sable mantle.
Clara knows at once Ramiro,
And she greets him, blushing crimson.
And the dance begins already,
Gaily whirl around the dancers
In the waltz's reckless circles,
Till the firm floor creaks and trembles.
"Yes, with pleasure, Don Ramiro,
I will dance with thee the measure;
But in such a night-black mantle
Thou shouldst never have come hither."
With fixed, piercing eyes, Ramiro
Gazes on the lovely lady.
Then embracing her, speaks strangely,—
"At thy bidding I came hither."
In the wild whirl of the measure,
Press and turn the dancing couple,
And the rolling drums are beaten,
Shrill the clamorous trumpet soundeth.
"White as driven snow thy cheeks are!"
Whispers Clara, inly trembling.
"At thy bidding I came hither,"
Hollow ring Ramiro's accents.
In the hall the tapers flicker,
With the eddying stream of dancers,
And the rolling drums are beaten,
Shrill the clamorous trumpet soundeth.
"Cold as ice I feel thy fingers,"
Whispers Clara, thrilled with terror.
"At thy bidding I came hither."
And they rush on in the vortex.
"Leave me, leave me, Don Ramiro!
Like a corpse's scent thy breath is."
Once again the gloomy sentence,
"At thy bidding I came hither."