_Car._ (_aside._) O what a fair and ministering angel Was lost to Heaven, when this sweet woman fell! _Pre._ (_kneeling before the Archbishop._) I have obeyed the order of your grace. If I intrude upon your better hours, I proffer this excuse, and here beseech Your holy benediction. _Arch._ May God bless thee, And lead thee to a better life. Arise. _Car._ (_aside._) Her acts are modest, and her words discreet! I did not look for this! Come hither, child. Is thy name Preciosa? _Pre._ Thus I am called. _Car._ That is a gipsy name. Who is thy father? _Pre._ Beltram Cruzado, Count of the Calés. _Arch._ I have a dim remembrance of that man; A bold and reckless character was he, Who never once beheld the face of fear. _Car._ Dost thou remember still thy earlier days? _Pre._ In the green woodlands by the Darro’s side, My childhood passed. I can remember still The river, and the mountains capped with snow; The villages, where yet a little child I told the traveller’s fortune in the street; The smuggler’s horse, the brigand and the shepherd; The march across the moor; the halt at noon; The red fire of the evening camp, that lighted The forest where we slept; and, further back, As in a dream or in some former life, Gardens and palace walls. _Arch._ ’Tis the Alhambra, Under whose walls the gipsy camp was pitch’d. But the time wears; and we would see thee dance. _Pre._ Your grace shall be obeyed. (_She lays aside her mantilla. The music of the Cachucha is played, and the dance begins. The Archbishop and the Cardinal look on with gravity and an occasional frown; then make signs to each other; and, as the dance continues, become more and more pleased and excited; and at length rise from their seats, throw their caps in the air, and applaud vehemently as the scene closes._) Scene II.—_The Prado. A long avenue of trees leading to the gate of Atocha. On the right the dome and spires of a convent. A fountain. Evening. Don Carlos and Hypolito meeting._