Enrique. (Protesting) You believe me cowardly!—When I have risked myself in plain day to see you for an instant!
Zoraya. That is true!—But you seem so preoccupied, so troubled—
Enrique. Like yourself—by this danger.
Zoraya. Yes, but I am more tender than you—While you—they say that your heart is always far away—far away from me!—Look at me!—I want you to look at me!—Quickly!—without taking time to invent a lie! (She turns Enrique’s face toward her.) Your gaze seems to tell me that your love has been stolen from me!
Enrique. Ah! My charmer! What a long time until then!—Since the hour when we first met, they have followed me everywhere, those eyes, there—they call to me day and night!—Ramiro had said to me, “Take care, my lord, that the magician does not throw over you some kind of a love charm!”
Zoraya. Ramiro is a silly fellow. There has been neither a magician nor magic. “Life,” said my father, “is a combat, where, like flights of arrows, contrary minds strive among themselves for a victory, which finally rests with the fallen.” I desired ardently to be loved by you. You did not know how to defend yourself. I have shot my arrow into your heart—in that lies all of my sorcery.
Enrique. And why did you so fervently desire me to love you?
Zoraya. (Passing Enrique, to the left) First, because of cowardice, my dear lord!—to extort from you my pardon—and later on, if I conquered you, to flee from Toledo!
Enrique. Ingrate!
Zoraya. (Sitting) It is bold of me to tell you now—and next—for bravado, malice and revenge!