Manuela. That night—after having left my child with a woman as poor as myself—the gypsy woman conducted me into a wood where many men and bad women were feasting round a fire!—They gave me food and drink and more and more of—I know not what kind of liquor—until I became like a fool!—And after!—Ah! God, no, oh! no, I cannot relate that!—In the morning I lay asleep on the ground, poorer than before, for my miserable, ragged clothes were gone! The archers threw me into a dungeon, where I have done nothing but shed tears day and night, thinking of my poor little baby! I do not know what has become of that! They will not tell me! (Sobbing) Ah! my good lords, do not make me more miserable! If they intend to burn me, why should I not be the first one selected from those doomed to die?
Ximénès. Raise your head—and look at this woman. (Manuela obeys) Do you recognize her as one of those who attended the witches’ revel?
Manuela. (After looking at Zoraya) No, no, Your Eminence.
Ximénès. Look at her carefully. And remember that you will receive some consideration if you answer frankly.
Zoraya. (Going to her) Yes, look at me.
Manuela. (Tremblings after looking at Zoraya) They made me drunk—I had no reason left—I do not remember clearly!——
Ximénès. Are you afraid that she will avenge herself?—She cannot harm you!—Then, confess that you saw her at this diabolical feast!
Manuela. (With the same voice) I cannot remember!
Ximénès. Take care, for we have sure methods for refreshing your memory.
Manuela. Have mercy, my lord!—I am telling the truth!