University of Virginia Library

Scene V.

—The Gypsy camp in the forest. Night. Gypsies working at a forge. Others playing cards by the firelight.
Gypsies
(at the forge sing).
On the top of a mountain I stand,

This and the following scraps of song are from Borrow's Zincali; or an Account of the Gypsies in Spain.

The Gypsy words in the same scene may be thus interpreted:—

• John-Dorados, pieces of gold.
• Pigeon, a simpleton.
• In your morocco, stripped.
• Doves, sheets.
• Moon, a shirt.
• Chirelin, a thief.
• Murcigalleros, those who steal at nightfall.
• Rastilleros, footpads.
• Hermit, highway-robber.
• Planets, candles.
• Commandments, the fingers.
• St. Martin asleep, to rob a person asleep.
• Lanterns, eyes.
• Goblin, police officer.
• Papagayo, a spy.
• Vineyards and Dancing John, to take flight.

With a crown of red gold in my hand,
Wild Moors come trooping over the lea,
Oh how from their fury shall I flee, flee, flee?
Oh how from their fury shall I flee?

First Gypsy
(playing).

Down with your John-Dorados, my pigeon. Down with your John-Dorados, and let us make an end.

Gypsies
(at the forge sing).
Loud sang the Spanish cavalier,
And thus his ditty ran;
God send the Gypsy lassie here,
And not the Gypsy man.

First Gypsy
(playing).

There you are in your morocco!

Second Gypsy.

One more game. The Alcalde's doves against the Padre Cura's new moon.

First Gypsy.

Have at you, Chirelin.

Gypsies
(at the forge sing).
At midnight, when the moon began
To show her silver flame,
There came to him no Gypsy man,
The Gypsy lassie came.

(Enter Beltran Cruzado.)
Cruz.

Come hither, Murcigalleros and Rastilleros; leave work, leave play; listen to your orders for the night. (Speaking to the right.)
You will get you to the village, mark you, by the stone cross.

Gypsies.

Ay!

Cruz.
(to the left).

And you, by the pole with the hermit's head upon it.

Gypsies.

Ay!

Cruz.

As soon as you see the planets are out, in with you, and be busy with the ten commandments, under the sly, and Saint Martin asleep. D' ye hear?

Gypsies.

Ay!

Cruz.

Keep your lanterns open, and, if you see a goblin or a papagayo, take to your trampers. Vineyards and Dancing John is the word. Am I comprehended?

Gypsies.

Ay! ay!

Cruz.

Away, then!

(Exeunt severally. Cruzado walks up the stage, and disappears among the trees. Enter Preciosa.)
Prec.
How strangely gleams through the gigantic trees,
The red light of the forge! Wild, beckoning shadows
Stalk through the forest, ever and anon
Rising and bending with the flickering flame,
Then flitting into darkness! So within me
Strange hopes and fears do beckon to each other,
My brightest hopes giving dark fears a being
As the light does the shadow. Woe is me!
How still it is about me, and how lonely!

(Bartolomé rushes in.)
Bart.
Ho! Preciosa!

Prec.
O Bartolomé!
Thou here?

Bart.
Lo! I am here.

Prec.
Whence comest thou?

Bart.
From the rough ridges of the wild Sierra,
From caverns in the rocks, from hunger, thirst,
And fever! Like a wild wolf to the sheepfold
Come I for thee, my lamb.

Prec.
Oh, touch me not!
The Count of Lara's blood is on thy hands!
The Count of Lara's curse is on thy soul!
Do not come near me! Pray, begone from here!
Thou art in danger! They have set a price
Upon thy head!

Bart.
Ay, and I've wandered long
Among the mountains; and for many days
Have seen no human face, save the rough swine-herd's.
The wind and rain have been my sole companions.
I shouted to them from the rocks thy name,
And the loud echo sent it back to me,
Till I grew mad. I could not stay from thee,
And I am here! Betray me, if thou wilt.

Prec.
Betray thee? I betray thee?

Bart.
Preciosa!
I come for thee! for thee I thus brave death!
Fly with me o'er the borders of this realm!
Fly with me!

Prec.
Speak of that no more. I cannot.
I'm thine no longer.

Bart.
Oh, recall the time
When we were children! how we played together,
How we grew up together; how we plighted
Our hearts unto each other, even in childhood!
Fulfil thy promise, for the hour has come.
I'm hunted from the kingdom, like a wolf!
Fulfill thy promise.

Prec.
'T was my father's promise,
Not mine. I never gave my heart to thee,
Nor promised thee my hand!

Bart.
False tongue of woman!
And heart more false!

Prec.
Nay, listen unto me.
I will speak frankly. I have never loved thee;
I cannot love thee. This is not my fault,
It is my destiny. Thou art a man
Restless and violent. What wouldst thou with me,
A feeble girl, who have not long to live,
Whose heart is broken? Seek another wife,
Better than I, and fairer; and let not
Thy rash and headlong moods estrange her from thee.
Thou art unhappy in this hopeless passion.
I never sought thy love; never did aught
To make thee love me. Yet I pity thee,
And most of all I pity thy wild heart,
That hurries thee to crimes and deeds of blood.
Beware, beware of that.

Bart.
For thy dear sake
I will be gentle. Thou shalt teach me patience.

Prec.
Then take this farewell, and depart in peace.
Thou must not linger here.

Bart.
Come, come with me.

Prec.
Hark! I hear footsteps.

Bart.
I entreat thee, come!

Prec.
Away! It is in vain.

Bart.
Wilt thou not come?

Prec.
Never!

Bart.
Then woe, eternal woe, upon thee!
Thou shalt not be another's. Thou shalt die.

[Exit.
Prec.
All holy angels keep me in this hour!
Spirit of her who bore me, look upon me!
Mother of God, the glorified, protect me!
Christ and the saints, be merciful unto me!
Yet why should I fear death? What is it to die?
To leave all disappointment, care, and sorrow,
To leave all falsehood, treachery, and unkindness,
All ignominy, suffering, and despair,
And be at rest forever! O dull heart,
Be of good cheer! When thou shalt cease to beat,
Then shalt thou cease to suffer and complain!

(Enter Victorian and Hypolito behind.)
Vict.
'T is she! Behold, how beautiful she stands
Under the tent-like trees!

Hyp.
A woodland nymph!

Vict.
I pray thee, stand aside. Leave me.

Hyp.
Be wary.
Do not betray thyself too soon.

Vict.
(disguising his voice).
Hist! Gypsy!

Prec.
(aside, with emotion).
That voice! that voice from heaven! Oh speak again!
Who is it calls?

Vict.
A friend.

Prec.
(aside).
'T is he! 'T is he
I thank thee, Heaven, that thou hast heard my prayer,
And sent me this protector! Now be strong,
Be strong, my heart! I must dissemble here.
False friend or true?

Vict.
A true friend to the true;
Fear not; come hither. So; can you tell fortunes?

Prec.
Not in the dark. Come nearer to the fire.
Give me your hand. It is not crossed, I see.

Vict.
(putting a piece of gold into her hand).
There is the cross.

Prec.
Is 't silver?

Vict.
No, 't is gold.

Prec.
There 's a fair lady at the Court, who loves you,
And for yourself alone.

Vict.
Fie! the old story!
Tell me a better fortune for my money;
Not this old woman's tale!

Prec.
You are passionate;
And this same passionate humor in your blood
Has marred your fortune. Yes; I see it now;
The line of life is crossed by many marks.
Shame! shame! Oh, you have wronged the maid who loved you!
How could you do it?

Vict.
I never loved a maid;
For she I loved was then a maid no more.

Prec.
How know you that?

Vict.
A little bird in the air
Whispered the secret.

Prec.
There, take back your gold!
Your hand is cold, like a deceiver's hand!
There is no blessing in its charity!
Make her your wife, for you have been abused;
And you shall mend your fortunes, mending hers.

Vict.
(aside).
How like an angel's speaks the tongue of woman,
When pleading in another's cause her own!
That is a pretty ring upon your finger.
Pray give it me. (Tries to take the ring.)


Prec.
No; never from my hand
Shall that be taken!

Vict.
Why, 't is but a ring.
I'll give it back to you; or, if I keep it,
Will give you gold to buy you twenty such.

Prec.
Why would you have this ring?

Vict.
A traveller's fancy,
A whim, and nothing more. I would fain keep it
As a memento of the Gypsy camp
In Guadarrama, and the fortune-teller
Who sent me back to wed a widowed maid.
Pray, let me have the ring.

Prec.
No, never! never!
I will not part with it, even when I die;
But bid my nurse fold my pale fingers thus,
That it may not fall from them. 'T is a token
Of a beloved friend, who is no more.

Vict.
How? dead?

Prec.
Yes; dead to me; and worse than dead.
He is estranged! And yet I keep this ring.
I will rise with it from my grave hereafter,
To prove to him that I was never false.

Vict.
(aside).
Be still, my swelling heart! one moment, still!
Why, 't is the folly of a love-sick girl.
Come, give it me, or I will say 't is mine,
And that you stole it.

Prec.
Oh, you will not dare
To utter such a falsehood!

Vict.
I not dare?
Look in my face, and say if there is aught
I have not dared, I would not dare for thee!

(She rushes into his arms.)
Prec.
'T is thou! 't is thou! Yes; yes; my heart's elected!
My dearest-dear Victorian! my soul's heaven!
Where hast thou been so long? Why didst thou leave me?

Vict.
Ask me not now, my dearest Preciosa.
Let me forget we ever have been parted!

Prec.
Hadst thou not come—

Vict.
I pray thee, do not chide me!

Prec.
I should have perished here among these Gypsies.

Vict.
Forgive me, sweet! for what I made thee suffer.
Think'st thou this heart could feel a moment's joy,
Thou being absent? Oh, believe it not!
Indeed, since that sad hour I have not slept,
For thinking of the wrong I did to thee!
Dost thou forgive me? Say, wilt thou forgive me?

Prec.
I have forgiven thee. Ere those words of anger
Were in the book of Heaven writ down against thee,
I had forgiven thee.

Vict.
I'm the veriest fool
That walks the earth, to have believed thee false.
It was the Count of Lara—

Prec.
That bad man
Has worked me harm enough. Hast thou not heard—

Vict.
I have heard all. And yet speak on, speak on!
Let me but hear thy voice, and I am happy;
For every tone, like some sweet incantation,
Calls up the buried past to plead for me.
Speak, my beloved, speak into my heart,
Whatever fills and agitates thine own.

(They walk aside.)
Hyp.
All gentle quarrels in the pastoral poets,
All passionate love-scenes in the best romances,
All chaste embraces on the public stage,
All soft adventures, which the liberal stars
Have winked at, as the natural course of things,
Have been surpassed here by my friend, the student,
And this sweet Gypsy lass, fair Preciosa!

Prec.
Señor Hypolito! I kiss your hand.
Pray, shall I tell your fortune?

Hyp.
Not to-night;
For, should you treat me as you did Victorian,
And send me back to marry maids forlorn,
My wedding day would last from now till Christmas.

Chispa
(within).
What ho! the Gypsies, ho! Beltran Cruzado!
Halloo! halloo! halloo! halloo!

(Enters booted, with a whip and lantern.)
Vict.
What now?
Why such a fearful din? Hast thou been robbed?

Chispa.
Ay, robbed and murdered; and good evening to you,
My worthy masters.

Vict.
Speak; what brings thee here?

Chispa
(to Preciosa).
Good news from Court; good news! Beltran Cruzado,
The Count of the Calés, is not your father,
But your true father has returned to Spain
Laden with wealth. You are no more a Gypsy.

Vict.
Strange as a Moorish tale!

Chispa.
And we have all
Been drinking at the tavern to your health,
As wells drink in November, when it rains.

Vict.
Where is the gentleman?

Chispa.
As the old song says,
His body is in Segovia,
His soul is in Madrid.

Prec.
Is this a dream? Oh, if it be a dream,
Let me sleep on, and do not wake me yet!
Repeat thy story! Say I'm not deceived!
Say that I do not dream! I am awake;
This is the Gypsy camp; this is Victorian,
And this his friend, Hypolito! Speak! speak!
Let me not wake and find it all a dream!

Vict.
It is a dream, sweet child! a waking dream,
A blissful certainty, a vision bright
Of that rare happiness, which even on earth
Heaven gives to those it loves. Now art thou rich,
As thou wast ever beautiful and good;
And I am now the beggar.

Prec.
(giving him her hand).
I have still
A hand to give.

Chispa
(aside).
And I have two to take.
I've heard my grandmother say, that Heaven gives almonds
To those who have no teeth. That 's nuts to crack.
I've teeth to spare, but where shall I find almonds?

Vict.
What more of this strange story?

Chispa.
Nothing more.
Your friend, Don Carlos, is now at the village
Showing to Pedro Crespo, the Alcalde,
The proofs of what I tell you. The old hag,
Who stole you in your childhood, has confessed;
And probably they'll hang her for the crime,
To make the celebration more complete.

Vict.
No; let it be a day of general joy;
Fortune comes well to all, that comes not late.
Now let us join Don Carlos.

Hyp.
So farewell,
The student's wandering life! Sweet serenades,
Sung under ladies' windows in the night,
And all that makes vacation beautiful!
To you, ye cloistered shades of Alcalá,
To you, ye radiant visions of romance,
Written in books, but here surpassed by truth,
The Bachelor Hypolito returns,
And leaves the Gypsy with the Spanish Student.