Vic. Ask me not now, my dearest Preciosa.
Let me forget we ever have been parted!
Pre. Hadst thou not come—
Vic. I pray thee do not chide me!
Pre. I should have perished here among these gipsies.
Vic. Forgive me, sweet! for what I made thee suffer.
Think’st thou this heart could feel a moment’s joy,
Thou being absent? O believe it not!
Indeed since that sad hour I have not slept
For thinking of the wrong I did to thee!