_Opas_. God will guide. Let us pursue the oppressor to destruction; The rest is heaven’s: must we move no step Because we cannot see the boundaries Of our long way, and every stone between? _Sis._ Is not thy vengeance for the late affront, For threats and outrage and imprisonment— _Opas_. For outrage, yes—imprisonment and threats I pardon him, and whatsoever ill He could do _me_. _Sis._ To hold Covilla from me! To urge her into vows against her faith, Against her beauty, youth, and inclination, Without her mother’s blessing, nay without Her father’s knowledge and authority— So that she never will behold me more, Flying afar for refuge and for help Where never friend but God will comfort her— _Opas_. These, and more barbarous deeds were perpetrated. _Sis._ Yet her proud father deigned not to inform Me, whom he loved and taught, in peace and war, Me, whom he called his son, before I hoped To merit it by marriage or by arms. He offered no excuse, no plea; expressed No sorrow; but with firm unfaltering voice Commanded me—I trembled as he spoke— To follow where he led, redress his wrongs, And vindicate the honour of his child. He called on God, the witness of his cause, On Spain, the partner of his victories, And yet amid these animating words Rolled the huge tear down his unvisored face— A general swell of indignation rose Through the long line, sobs burst from every breast, Hardly one voice succeeded—you might hear The impatient hoof strike the soft sandy plain: But when the gates flew open, and the king In his high car came forth triumphantly, Then was Count Julian’s stature more elate; Tremendous was the smile that smote the eyes Of all he passed. “Fathers, sons, and brothers,” He cried, “I fight your battles, follow me! Soldiers, we know no danger but disgrace!” “Father, and general, and king,” they shout, And would proclaim him: back he cast his face, Pallid with grief, and one loud groan burst forth; It kindled vengeance through the Asturian ranks, And they soon scattered, as the blasts of heaven Scatter the leaves and dust, the astonished foe. _Opas_. And doubtest thou his truth? _Sis._ I love—and doubt— Fight—and believe: Roderigo spoke untruths— In him I place no trust; but Julian holds Truths in reserve—how should I quite confide! _Opas_. By sorrows thou beholdest him oppressed; Doubt the more prosperous: march, Sisabert, Once more against his enemy and ours: Much hath been done, but much there still remains. FOURTH ACT.—FIRST SCENE. _Tent of_ JULIAN. RODERIGO _and_ JULIAN.