Doña Sol: Hernani,
It is the tocsin!
Hernani: No; our wedding-bells.
[Shouts are heard. Lights appear in all the windows.
The noise of the bells grows louder. A mountaineer
runs in, with his sword drawn.
The Mountaineer: The streets are filled with soldiers.
Doña Sol: Save yourself!
Here is a side gate.
The Crowd (out in the street): Bring the brigand out!
Hernani: One kiss, then, and farewell.
Doña Sol (embracing him): It is our first.
Hernani: And it may be our last. Farewell, my love!