University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

One night is supposed to elapse between the First and Second Acts.

Scene I.

—An eminence near the great Gate of Toledo, overlooking the city and the valley of the Tagus. Mondeiar discovered pacing the ground impatiently.
MONDEIAR.
No voice! no step! This spot Padilla named
When to each chief he gave his midnight charge
For daybreak meeting; and the jagged urn
Of dawn, which yon divided peaks embrace,
Is full of saffron, which bespeaks the sun
Just raised on level ocean; yet the air
Is silent, and Toledo lies entranced
As weary of brave sports. I know we triumph,
Though my dull office lay without the walls,
For the long shouts of joy that pierced the skies
Were mingled with no discords.
The low hills
Have caught the sunbeams; still I gaze alone.
Since those age-freighted hours in which I shared
Columbus' watch upon the dismal sea,
While the low murmurs of despair were hush'd
To dull submission by the solemn light
Of the great Captain's eye, as from the helm
It beam'd composure, till the world we sought
Dawn'd in its flushes ere the headland broke
The gloom to common vision,—I have felt
No vacant time so heavy as these moments
Which should be throng'd with actions.

Enter Tendilla.
TENDILLA.
Am I right?
Is this our place of gathering?

MONDEIAR.
Right—your news—
Why does the glorious madness of the night
Lie hush'd in this deep silence?

TENDILLA.
Freedom pants
Amazed at victory. My duty lay
Sometimes beside our chief, whose sabre's flash
Along the streets gave signal to men's souls
Ready to leap from serfdom; every house
Started from darkness into festal lights
As touch'd by magic finger; bells rang forth
In sudden peals; and three triumphant words,
Padilla—Liberty—Castile—o'er all
The glorious clamours floated.

MONDEIAR.
The Alcazar?

TENDILLA.
Giron, who comes, will tell us; 'twas his charge
To summon it on one side, while Padilla
Assail'd it on the other.

Enter Don Pedro de Giron.
MONDEIAR.
Welcome! Tell us
How sped your enterprise.

GIRON.
'Twas none; my boast
Is that I bore the rabble's breath and live.
The throng I should have led, swept me enthrall'd
In rude embrace; till, struggling to their front,
I stood before the drawbridge, which upraised
Left the trench yawning;—then my rabble paused,
While soldiers, roused from slumber, mann'd the walls
And with join'd sabres, fashioning sheets of steel,
Defied my dusky forest waving grim
With axe and bludgeon; as I gave the word
For action, from within the fortress rose
A frantic yell of triumph, which proclaim'd
Our work achieved; the soldiers dropp'd their swords,
And stretch'd their arms impatient to embrace
Their rugged foes: the drawbridge fell; the craftsmen
In headlong rapture swept across to join
Padilla's band; while from the central tower
The long-furl'd banner of Castile flew out
Among the stars; one voice exclaim'd, “Thank God!”
And at the words, the motley hosts kneel'd down
Like docile children at their mother's call,
And cross'd their arms in silence. But here comes
The idol who enchants them, heralded
Even to our meeting by their clamours.

[Shouts.
Enter Padilla.
PADILLA.
Welcome!
Beneath the unclouded dome of heaven give thanks
For last night's stainless conquest; if my sword
Had not chastised a stripling who mistook
The time for one of license, 'twere undimm'd
By drop of crimson. Who should now complete
Our roll of leaders?

GIRON.
I have friends to name,
Guzman, Villena—

PADILLA.
Villena! must we own
That reckless gamester?

GIRON.
If his personal life
Is chequer'd with light follies, 'tis derived
From fountains ancient and august as fill
Castilian veins.

PADILLA.
So bears a shame more flagrant
Than his whose frailties, urged by needs, defile
A lowlier spring of being. In Castile,
The glory that ancestral ages wreathe
Around a noble's brow is less his own
Than portion of the lustre that arrays
His country; and the baseness that obscures it
Combines foul treason to the sacred dead
With robbery of the living.

GIRON.
Dare you charge
My friend with baseness!

PADILLA.
Yes; what meaner vice
Crawls there than that which no affections urge,
And no delights refine; which from the soul
Steals mounting impulses which might inspire
Its noblest ventures, for the arid quest
Of wealth 'mid ruin; changes enterprise
To squalid greediness, makes heaven-born hope
A shivering fever, and, in vile collapse,
Leaves the exhausted heart without one fibre
Impell'd by generous passion? And your friend,
Weary of cards and dice, would make our wrongs
The counters of his game! We'll none of him!

MONDEIAR.
Brother, be wise; in such a state as ours,
We must not judge thus nicely—Giron's friend
Must find allowance.

PADILLA.
Is it so? Alas!
Who else?

TENDILLA.
I name Ovando—Gomez—

PADILLA.
Brawlers, who without touch of true regard
For men of bitter needs, inflame their thoughts
By falsehood; and, for succour, give them hate,
The soul's worst poison.

GIRON.
So I think of them;
But we must work with various instruments,
Or perish.

PADILLA.
O great Heaven! I thought our cause
Strong in its justice.

MONDEIAR.
So it is, my brother;
And while a nation's passion sweeps its depths
May bear these surface eddies; as the sheet
Of yon broad river, by light breezes touch'd,
Breaks into devious ripples as of streams
Slanting for various destinies, yet keeps
Its single course—so while a cause like ours,
Moved by a people's righteous fury, pours
Right onward, these obliquities are lost
In the great current, if we let them skim it,
Nor break its force to check them. Villena comes;
Pray welcome him.

Enter the Marquis de Villena.
VILLENA
(offering his hand to Padilla).
Let me embrace our chief.

PADILLA
(shudders, but gives his hand).
Your hand. Who follows next?

GIRON.
My nephew seeks
Service and honour with us.

Enter Carillo with his arm bandaged.
PADILLA.
Ha! he has won
A scratch already; would it were achieved
In honour! Do I see the officer
Who felt my sword last night?

CARILLO.
You see him bow
Repentant to your censure.

PADILLA.
Your offence
In council must be judged; till that is past,
Resign your sword and hold yourself a prisoner.

GIRON.
My kinsman welcomed thus!

PADILLA.
If he had sprung
From the noblest blood of earth, he should be judged
And sentenced as the meanest. He has stain'd
A righteous enterprise which, else, had worn
No spot. Amid the tumult of the night
One cry of agony alone was heard,
And 'twas a woman's, who, from rude embrace,
Shriek'd for protection; happily I was near,
Or the most holy outcry of the earth
Had been unanswer'd.

CARILLO.
Let me hear my sentence
At once, from one whose words by justice shaped
Bow me with shame.

PADILLA.
Serve in the ranks six months.

GIRON
(to Carillo).
Do not endure it.

CARILLO.
Uncle, let me serve,
And by my prompt obedience win again
The rank I had forgotten.
[To Padilla.
Sir, assign me
A common soldier's trust.

PADILLA.
Relieve the guard
At yonder city gate.

[Exit Carillo.
PADILLA
(to Giron).
You think me stern,
But you will one day thank me.

GIRON.
I shall thank you
In fitting season.

MONDEIAR
(interposing).
Part we now to meet
An hour hence at the council-house, and shape
Our onward course.

GIRON.
Agreed.

[Exeunt all but Padilla and Mondeiar.
MONDEIAR.
You have made a foe
Potent and deadly.

PADILLA.
I am glad to know it;
His friendship had been worse than deadly—shameful.

MONDEIAR.
I thought you were more constant in your temper—
You are chafed now.

PADILLA.
I will subdue this fault
By gazing for a moment on the home,
Whence the sweet breath of old familiar joys
Henceforth will rarely soothe me.

MONDEIAR.
'Twill unnerve you
For our stern duties.

PADILLA.
No; 'twill nurture in me
That mighty sense of wrong which only grows
From lovely things insulted. Pray you say
That I am coming.

[Exit Mondeiar.
PADILLA
(alone).
I must gather strength
To quell these swellings of indignant nature
Among those mighty images which make
A desperate venture calm. Loveliest of vales,
Spread now before my gaze in childhood's light,
Speak to me with the echoes which your rocks
Have treasured from vow'd striplings' martial steps,
While they bade frank adieu to sports and hopes
And meditated forms which death would wear
In our great Christian strife, as thoughts of lovers
Dally with shapes of joy! Castilian banners,
That flutter'd in my life's remotest dawn,
And made my childish fancy leap to valour,
Wave with such solemn grandeur as shall sweep
All meaner angers to augment one rage
August against the alien rule which blasts
The land you glorify! Let all delights
Of home, which sense of loyal faith made sweeter,
Lend their selectest symbols to oppose
The power which bids them wither at its grasp,
Or sparing makes them slavish,—and invest
My soul as with a breastplate! I am arm'd.
[Exit Padilla.

Scene II.

—The Terrace in Padilla's garden, as in 1st Act.—Shouts heard at intervals, growing nearer.
Enter Donna Maria.
MARIA.
Shout on! Roar on! My spirit drinks the crash
Of furious discords blent in one great hope,
As I have listen'd to the mighty cataract,
From which the sounds of jagged channels join
In one majestic thunder that descends
With the same single music on the ear
As at the river's conquest o'er its rocks
When first it made its passage. Roar, and speak
The strong outbursting of a nation's soul
At its true master's call! Is none awake
In whom the lonely rapture of my night
May find an echo? I will call my son—
Alphonso! Can he sleep?

Enter Lopez.
MARIA.
Where's your young master?

LOPEZ.
Alas! I know not; as, last night, with me
He paced our loftiest crags, a wilder cry
Than any which our earnest ears had caught,
Rose from the city;—when, without a word,
He sprang from the sharp margin of the rock
Like bird in air; scarce touch'd the points that aid
The painful climber; swam the stream which gave
A gurgle's notice of his buoyant course;
Leap'd to the meadow; waved his plume and flew
Into the darkness.

MARIA.
Bravely done; his place
Is at his father's side. The shouts draw nearer;
Can you not catch one name above them all?

Enter Alphonso.
MARIA.
Where have you left Padilla?

ALPHONSO.
Left him! mother,
I have sought him through the night, and cried in vain
To crowds that circled him to give me way,
Though I was near him often; now they rush,
Led by the noblest in Toledo, hither,
And, as I think, to crown him.

MARIA.
Heaven assuage
The transports of my soul, that I may meet
This fortune as befits his wife! I'll sit
And study to be marble.

[Sits.
Enter Don Velasco, Prefect of Toledo, with Soldiers and Citizens.
VELASCO.
Noble lady,
We seek Padilla.

MARIA.
Here! Then danger's past,
Else ye would not expect him in a home
Which only knows its thunders.

VELASCO.
It is past;
Toledo's free; and her delighted citizens
Would hail you as a queen.

MARIA.
Me! Do not waste
A moment of this time in wreathing honors
For a frail woman, who has only grace
As she adores the mighty. My sole claim
Is, that I have loved Padilla from his bloom
Of glorious youth, not as a love-sick maid
Entranced to watch the shadow of a curl
On man's bright forehead, in the swimming depths
Of hazel eyes with fondness downward bent
Reads her own charms reflected; 'twas his soul,
His kingly nature, that I honor'd then
And worship now; if ye shall crown Padilla,
Ye will do wisely. But my brother comes—
And, after him, my husband.

Enter Mondeiar—after him Padilla.
MARIA.
My dear lord,
You have return'd in happiest time to give
Your gracious answer to Toledo's prayers,
Which claim you for a sovereign, whom Castile
Will soon confirm her own.

PADILLA.
Me?

VELASCO.
Our shouts sent up
From our full hearts shall answer. He whose name,
As by enchantment, shook our fetters from us,
Alone shall rule us.

PADILLA.
Do you speak the wish
Of all the citizens?

VELASCO.
All—save some base ones
Who seek their own advancement.

PADILLA.
Is it so?
Is what I welcomed as a noble voice,
Sent from a people's spirit to its King's
To wake his justice, treason? Do I stand here
A chief of rebels? No, my countrymen,
Your error's but a moment's extasy,
Which Heaven will pardon.

MONDEIAR.
But will Charles forgive?
Does loyalty deceive you with the hope
That he whose nature when it verged on manhood
Was old in craftiest policy's success
Will pardon this revolt—start not—such name
Our acts must carry—or forgive the love
With which the people urge you to protect
Yourself with them?

PADILLA.
It may be true, I am blasted;
It may be, that in rising to redress
Great wrongs, we have snapp'd the holy bond of subjects;
But I will bear all shames before the spoil
Of such disaster sink with meaner guilt
The rebel to the robber.

MARIA.
Husband! lord!
Before you fling the proffer'd sceptre from you
Think of the strifes its sway alone can charm,
The blessings which its touch would waken!

PADILLA.
No—
The course of right is single. Such a flaw
As is created by a chief, whose place
Or circumstance leads men to fix their thoughts
Upon him with affection, when he swerves
From duty, works more mischief to earth's faith
Than the victorious recreant can atone
By years of wisest policy.

MONDEIAR.
Then perish—
He who has burst a nation's chains, must be
Its master or its victim.

PADILLA.
I am doom'd then;
My choice is made.

MARIA.
If not for these—or me—
You think in this great moment, look on him,
Sole offspring of our love whom earth retains!
Plead for yourself, Alphonso!

VELASCO.
Noble youth,
Plead for us all!

PADILLA.
Speak your desire, my son,
As freely as to God.

ALPHONSO.
Mother, forgive me;
My heart is in my father's, and his words
Should have been mine if I had power to shape them.

PADILLA.
You hear him—through the unsullied lips of youth
Heaven's answer breathes. Well said, my noble son!
Look up, Maria!

[Donna Maria places her hands on Padilla's shoulders, and looks intently on his face.
MARIA.
I can read the future,
Writ in the furrows of this steadfast face;
The desperate struggle—the ungrateful herd—
Sharp death and mangled story. Think again!

PADILLA.
I have thought all my life for such an hour—
I must act now. Assure me that your courage
Will quell this anguish.

MARIA.
I shall conquer it.

PADILLA.
And smile?

MARIA.
Yes; if you will it you shall find
A smile on this poor face, till death shall fix
Its last in wax.

PADILLA.
That's brave! The Council waits—
Thither, my countrymen, I bear this life
For you, which had been worthless if enwreath'd
With treason's circlet; Mondeiar, come with me.
[To Maria.
Bid me farewell.

MARIA.
Farewell.

PADILLA.
Alphonso, wait
Upon your mother; she will be prouder of you
Than when she clasp'd you first.

[Exeunt Padilla and Mondeiar.
MARIA.
My friends, for all
The mighty good you proffer'd, take my thanks:
Forgive me; I am faint.

[Velasco offers to support her; she takes her son's arm.
MARIA.
Alphonso's arm
Is strong enough to prop me; Heaven preserve you!

[Exeunt severally.

Scene III.

—The Council-house of Toledo. Giron, Villena, Tendilla, Gomez, Ovando, and others discovered.
GIRON.
Whom wait we for? Our duty cries dispatch.

GOMEZ.
Padilla will be here anon.

GIRON.
Padilla!
At such a moment, must we idly sit
Till he has surfeited with speech the rabble
That doat upon his footsteps? Messengers
Attend to tell the people's triumphs won
In kindred cities.

VILLENA.
Let the first in rank
Preside.

TENDILLA.
The first in rank! Well—for to-day—
[Aside to Ovando.
Giron that seat is yours.

GIRON
(having taken the central seat).
Though slight desert
Has raised me to this station, I can grace it
With news most happy;—news which proves the flame
That triumphs in our city, no chance blaze
Like that which an old earth-torch waves from cleft
Of an extinct volcano, but the sign
Of one huge fire that glows within Castile,
And has already burst its shallow rind
In Zamora and Burgos. With your leave,
I'll ask the tidings of the Messengers
Who thence wait on us.

Enter two Messengers.
GIRON.
Who depute you to us?

MESSENGER.
The townsmen who command in both our cities—
Which have one tale for each. Our Deputy,
Returning home from Cortez with the shame
Of voting for the Emperor's donative,
Without an effort to obtain redress
For outrages we suffer from the Regent,
Offer'd with words to cozen us; but hands
Of sturdy citizens prevented speech,
Drew the poor sophist to the gate, and left him
Free to the elements; meanwhile, his house
Was levell'd, and his costly goods were piled
In glittering heaps, from which the poorest shrink
As things accursed. The rest is in suspense
And waits your counsel.

TENDILLA.
As the people won
This freedom, I advise the people mould it.
I move, that, in Toledo, every parish
Choose by the votes of all a councillor
To rule the city, till our just demands
Be satisfied; and that we urge this course
On other cities.

VILLENA
(to Giron).
Do you hear this, Giron?
Is it for this the noblest blood in Spain
Is perill'd?

GIRON.
Be content; Tendilla speaks
The spirit of the hour, and I approve
The scheme he offers. I would only add,
As the time presses, that, in every parish,
The first in station take the votes, and name
The councillor elected. If you all
Agree, all rise.

[All rise—Shouts without.
GIRON.
'Tis well. What means that shout?
Padilla comes—too late.

Enter Padilla and Mondeiar.
GIRON.
Sit, noble friends.

PADILLA.
Your pardon—an unwelcome crowd too long
Detain'd us. Do you meditate a scheme
Of government for present need?

GIRON.
'Tis settled—
A council chosen by free votes of all;
One for each parish.

PADILLA.
All? Reflect again—
Has not a course of ages which begins
Beyond the Saracen, matured a power
Incorporate in Toledo to preside
In exigence like this? From age to age
Renew'd from busy life, yet graced with honour
By old heroic story, which imparts
To citizens beset with care a sense
Of true communion with the glorious Past
And hopeful Future,—one of those old guilds
That through the cities of Castile have nurtured
Freedom in shapes of loyalty, that stand
Like living pillars round the throne to guard it,
And look remonstrance on it.

OVANDO.
Tyrannies,
Servile in infancy, in dotage cruel,
Hollow in all. We'll sweep them to the Past,
With which they boast alliance.

PADILLA.
Slave!

OVANDO.
Dost dare
Denounce me as a slave?

PADILLA.
The worst of slaves—
The bondsman of the moment, scarcely free
To talk of yesterday.

MONDEIAR
(to Padilla).
Pray you, be calm.

PADILLA.
Calm!—while the whirlpool of the hour engulphs
The growth of centuries! Pause ere ye rive,
With strength of fever, things embedded long
In social being; you'll uproot no form
With which the thoughts and habits of weak mortals
Have long been twined, without the bleeding rent
Of thousand ties which to the common heart
Of nature link it; wrench'd, perchance you'll mock
A clumsy relic of forgotten days,
While you have scatter'd in the dust unseen
A thousand living crystals.

GIRON.
We have voted.

PADILLA.
Voted! Will no one join me to implore
Another thought? At least, dispatch, at once,
Fit mission to our King, whence he may learn
That we seek only hearing for such prayers
As royal hearts should answer.

VILLENA.
To the King?
Must all end thus?

OVANDO.
To the King—the recreant?

PADILLA.
This in my presence—
[Padilla lays his hand on his sword, and advances towards Ovando, but is stayed by Mondeiar.
Am I sunk so low
That I must hear this treason, and not strike
The speaker dead?

GIRON.
Ovando, do not raise
Contention here: Padilla counsels wisely;
If Charles reject our prayers—

PADILLA.
He'll not reject them:
Mine only be the peril; let me seek him,
And if I bring not home his seal'd assent
To all we justly claim, I'll bring this life
To pay the forfeit.

GIRON.
No,—we cannot spare you.
Let's number our demands; first, that the King
Dismiss the Regent, and resume his rule
In person over us.

PADILLA.
'Tis just; he'll grant it.

TENDILLA.
Next, that he fill all offices of state
With true Castilians; that the Cortez meet
Once in three years; that every city send
Three to compose it, one the Clergy's choice,
One from the Nobles, from the Commons one.

GIRON.
The Commons!—well!—so be our prayer.

VILLENA.
The Commons!

GIRON.
Be ruled, Villena; 'tis best so; what else?

OVANDO.
That the King's choice in marriage shall await
The sanction of the Cortez.

PADILLA.
I will perish—
Ere I consent to ask my king to yield
His equal part in the divinest joy
Our sins have left us, to the chance caprice
Of heartless policy—to become a slave
In that respect which masters, who are men,
Leave their slaves free to choose in. Do ye mean this?

GIRON.
We'll speak of that hereafter; here's more news.

Enter Messenger from Segovia.
MESSENGER.
Segovia craves your help, invested closely
By Adrian's troops, under his judge Ronquillo.

GIRON.
The war begun? Has then Segovia risen?

MESSENGER.
Have ye not heard how Tordesillas died
On his return from Cortez? Scorning threats
That thickly murmur'd as he pass'd, he turn'd
In the church porch to speak, and waved his hand
With noble motion to enforce the silence
His stately presence claim'd; but e'er a word
Escaped his lips, a hundred massive hands
Were spread to grasp him, and his form was lost
Amidst the infuriate crowds who bore him thence
Shrieking for mercy with a voice that sank
From sharpest cry of anguish to faint moan
Of wearied infancy; and though the Priests,
Robed in procession met them, and upraised
The Host to win a moment's time for prayer,
Swept with him to the gibbet's foot, nor ceased
Their madden'd roar, till lifting him to swing
From the detested beam, they found the work
Of death completed, and with sudden awe
Gazed on their rescued victim.

PADILLA.
Merciful Heaven!
Is this the people's justice?

GIRON.
It is past.
Say on.

MESSENGER.
Ronquillo came, by Adrian sent
To punish, not the reckless crowd alone
But all Segovians; he proclaim'd us outlaws,
And now invests our walls; while Fonseca,
Flush'd with Medina's ravage, where he burn'd
The labours of a thousand looms, leads veterans
To join Ronquillo. If you grant no aid,
Segovia's doom is seal'd, and shameful death
Awaits the noblest of our citizens
Who would have died to stay the rabble's vengeance.

PADILLA.
There's work for me more fit than war of words.
Let me depart your soldier, with no troops
Save such as, on the instant, choose to join
My standard, whether disciplined in arms
Or fresh from workman's labour.

GIRON.
Nobly urged.

VILLENA.
Will you thus arm him to achieve the crown
The rabble fain would give him?

MONDEIAR.
O base fear!
This day, when urged by thousands to accept it,
He spurn'd it with a singleness of nature
Beyond your reach of guessing.

PADILLA.
Brother, peace—
Disdain to answer him; my heart's too full—
Castilians! If ye think that in this mould
Along one fibre creeps a wish so vile
As this poor gamester in his squalid fancy
Deems possible, explore it with your swords;
Here on my knee, with naked breast, I claim
Your quittance or your steel.

[Kneels.
GIRON.
Rise, noble soldier;
I'll answer for your truth with life, and all
Will wager for it their's as freely.
The other Councillors, rising.
All.

PADILLA.
Another hour shall see my march began;
Let me but crave one boon; the Queen Joanna,
Amidst the conflicts of the time, may lack
Observance—

OVANDO.
Have we leisure to attend
The humours of distraction?

PADILLA.
Leisure? Yours?
Your lifetime, if it would outlast the world,
Were nobly barter'd for an hour employ'd
In chasing from the mirror of that soul
One film that dims it. I would pray the council
Leave that my wife may tend her, and my son
Serve her with page's duty.

GIRON.
Deem this order'd
As you desire.

PADILLA.
Attend one parting prayer—
May strength continue to our cause, to claim
Bravely our just demands, and, those achieved,
May grace be with it nobly to dissolve
In old obedience! As you keep this hope
God prosper you! Farewell.

GIRON.
Farewell, great soldier.
[Exit Padilla.
At noon we'll meet again; till then farewell.
[Exeunt all but Giron and Villena.
Villena, you must leave our game to me;
I comprehend and hate Padilla, you
Simply detest him. You would play with men
As with your dice and counters, which may stand
For vulgar natures, but afford no mark
By which a noble constancy of soul
May bear its estimate; and as a child,
Moving an unknown power, confounds the wisest,
So, while you weave your schemes with common chances,
Greatness perplexes all.

VILLENA.
If he should come
Victorious home?

GIRON.
He will return victorious,
But with scarce half the troops he carries hence,
And more than half of them rude clowns who leave
Their trades, in sudden passion to be school'd
By discipline they guess not, and to smart
With wounds, which the train'd soldier having learn'd
In youth to image with his future, bears
As ills familiar, but to craftsman's sense
Will seem strange sorrows. Then, be sure, that Charles
Will scorn the missives of revolted subjects,
And our proud chief, who fancies that he arms
At once for king and rabble, disabused,
Will stand aghast, with nature rent in twain
And fall to ruin; meanwhile he and all
Who worship him, have left the state to us.

VILLENA.
Say rather to a council rabble-chosen.

GIRON.
Tut! you as dimly read the common mind
As the heroic spirit. Trust me, Marquis,
The lower that the soil lies, and the wider
The surface it presents, the kindlier strikes
The germ of new dominion there; the rankness
Of elements that moulder round its stem
Shall shed imperial purple through its flower
When it shall flaunt in sunshine.

[Shouts without.
VILLENA.
Those shouts hail
Padilla's band departing.

GIRON.
Well! We talk
More safely thus protected by their clamour,
While they exhaust the passion which inspires it.
Believe me, comrade, when the incense floats
Most thickly round the idol's shrine, its fire
Begins to smoulder. Let us divide the stakes
Fairly for once: the glory of the day
Padilla justly wins; its spoils be ours!

[Exeunt.