Isidore. Of himself he speaks. [Aside.
Alas! poor wretch! 110
Mad men are mostly proud.

Ordonio. He walked alone,
And phantom thoughts unsought-for troubled him.
Something within would still be shadowing out
All possibilities; and with these shadows
His mind held dalliance. Once, as so it happened, 115
A fancy crossed him wilder than the rest:
To this in moody murmur and low voice
He yielded utterance, as some talk in sleep:
The man who heard him.—
Why did'st thou look round?

Isidore. I have a prattler three years old, my lord! [120]
[[863]] In truth he is my darling. As I went
From forth my door, he made a moan in sleep—
But I am talking idly—pray proceed!
And what did this man?

Ordonio. With this human hand
He gave a substance and reality [125]
To that wild fancy of a possible thing.—
Well it was done!
Why babblest thou of guilt?
The deed was done, and it passed fairly off.
And he whose tale I tell thee—dost thou listen?

Isidore. I would, my lord, you were by my fire-side, 130
I'd listen to you with an eager eye,
Though you began this cloudy tale at midnight,
But I do listen—pray proceed, my lord.

Ordonio. Where was I?

Isidore. He of whom you tell the tale—

Ordonio. Surveying all things with a quiet scorn, 135
Tamed himself down to living purposes,
The occupations and the semblances
Of ordinary men—and such he seemed!
But that same over ready agent—he—

Isidore. Ah! what of him, my lord?

Ordonio. He proved a traitor, [140]
Betrayed the mystery to a brother-traitor,
And they between them hatch'd a damnéd plot
To hunt him down to infamy and death.
What did the Valdez? I am proud of the name
Since he dared do it.—
[Ordonio grasps his sword, and turns off from Isidore, then after a pause returns.
Our links burn dimly. 145