General—Thou hast chosen thy way. Is it bitter so soon?
Rodriguez—Can it be aught but bitter when thou hast turned against me? Am I not of thy blood, flesh of thy flesh?
General—Why dost thou come back to me?
Rodriguez—Last night when I faced the Moor, Death stood grinning at my side, and I was afraid. Suddenly I thought of thee and my childhood. I forgot everything that success or failure might bring, I fought only to win thy love. My arm grew strong, and the grim spectre at my side faded, for Love was stronger than Death!
General—Hast thou given up this girl?
Rodriguez—(Slowly.) No!
General—(Coldly.) It shall be my duty to report to the King and ask for thy promotion. Thou art a brave soldier, and Spain will not be slow to honor thee.
Rodriguez—I seek no honor from my country-men. I beg only for thy love.
General—(Sneering.) Art thou a soldier or a troubadour that love is always on thy lips?
Rodriguez—I am thy son.