Don Alonzo. Sire, the Count is dead. Don Diego, by his son, has avenged his wrong.
Don Fernando. As soon as I knew of the insult I foresaw the vengeance, and from that moment I wished to avert this misfortune.
Don Alonzo. Chimène approaches to lay her grief at your feet [lit. brings to your knees her grief]; she comes all in tears to sue for justice from you.
Don Fernando. Much though my soul compassionates her sorrows, what the Count has done seems to have deserved this just punishment of his rashness. Yet, however just his penalty may be, I cannot lose such a warrior without regret. After long service rendered to my state, after his blood has been shed for me a thousand times, to whatever thoughts his [stubborn] pride compels me, his loss enfeebles me, and his death afflicts me.
Scene VIII.—Don Fernando, Don Diego, Chimène, Don Sancho, DON ARIAS, and Don Alonzo.
Chimène. Sire, sire, justice!
Don Diego. Ah, sire, hear us!
Chimène. I cast myself at your feet!
Don Diego. I embrace your knees!
Chimène. I demand justice.