[They embrace. Exit Alfonso. Pascual remains behind and waves his handkerchief from the terrace.
D. Pas. Adios! He is gone. His ambling mule
Has borne its gallant freight far out of sight.
Farewell, Alfonso. Fortune be thy guide,
Truest of comrades, best of counsellors,
Ride thou, my friend, towards fame, whilst I, Pascual,
Like Cain, must roam the earth, a vagabond,
Flying the face of man, by man pursued;
A price set on my head. Not merely bastard,
But vagabond! What was't he said of fame?
He mocked me. Fame for an outlawed gipsy!
An it be not such fame the gallows brings,
Write me down lucky. Would not an attempt
To bring my name to light sign my death warrant?
My friend thought not of this. For such as I
The monast'ry's sequestered cell were good,
Rather than fame. But courage yet! I feel
The blood of our dark race boil in my veins,
And cry shame on my fears. Then fame be it,
But not that fame Alfonso wrings from books.
Not that for me. The valour of my arm,
The patient wasting of my hardy frame
Shall win the fame I seek. For I recall
The words long spoken, and but all forgot,
By that same gipsy queen when first she gazed
Into my infant palm. "Hail to thee, child!
For thou beneath a lucky star was born.
Fortune," she said, "hath marked thee for her own."
These are the words. I cannot choose, but trust.
Shine out, my star, since thou dost lead me on,
For as the loadstone draws the unwilling steel
Unto itself, so man is led by fate.
Avaunt, base fear, and fortune, thus I seize thee. [Exit.
Scene II.—A wild ravine. Gipsies, headed by the Gipsy Queen, in ambush.
Gip. Q. This way she comes. Now to your work; but mark!
Exceed not my commands. Do her no harm,
Show yourselves loyal to your queen, as men,
And not wild beasts.
Several Gipsies. Queen, thou shalt be obeyed.
Enter Donna Inez and Pedro, on mules.
Ped. Cheer up, fair mistress. Banish idle fears.
Already we've accomplished half our journey.
Ere sundown we'll have reached your father's castle.
So follow me. Fear not. And as for dreams,
They are all vain, and bred of convent fare—
Sickly disease engendered in the mind
By monkish legends and low superstition,
Unworthy ladies of your rank. Look ye!
I, Pedro, now am old, and yet I never
Have known a dream of mine that did come true.
No, my young mistress, take Pedro's word for't,
All dreaming is unhealthy—a bad sign.
Live well, sleep soundly, and you'll dream no more.
Dreams proceed but from impaired digestion.
Take my advice and give no heed to them.
[Gipsies advance suddenly and seize the bridles.
First Gipsy. Hola! there, good people. Halt and dismount!
[Inez screams and falls against Pedro.
Inez. Pedro, protect me. Oh, holy Virgin!
Oh, blessed saints and souls in purgatory!
Have mercy on us, or we're lost, O God!
Pedro, dost hear? Assist me. Fly! Call. Help!
Ped. Help, help! To the rescue, I say. What ho!
Second Gipsy. Any attempt at flight or cry for help
Is vain, and may prove fatal. Come, dismount.
Inez. Oh, saints! The very faces, I declare,
That I saw in my dream—and dreams are false.
Holy Virgin, protect us. Help, I say!
Third Gipsy. Ay, call upon your saints. Call on, call on!
And see if they'll come to your assistance.
First Gipsy. An you cease not your screaming, you'll be gagged.