_Pre._ There’s a fair lady at the court, who loves you, And for yourself alone. _Vic._ Fie! the old story! Tell me a better fortune for my gold; Not this old woman’s tale! _Pre._ You’re 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! O you have wronged the maid who loved you! How could you do’t? _Vic._ I never loved a maid; For she I loved, was then a maid no more. _Pre._ How know you that? _Vic._ A little bird in the air Whispered the secret. _Pre._ 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. _Vic._ (_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._) _Pre._ No; never from my hand Shall that be taken! _Vic._ Why, ’tis but a ring. I’ll give it back to you; or, if I keep it, Will give you gold to buy you twenty such. _Pre._ Why would you have this ring? _Vic._ A traveler’s fancy— A whim, and nothing more. I would fain keep it As a memento of the gipsy camp In El Pardillo, and the fortune-teller, Who sent me back to wed a widow’d maid. Pray, let me have the ring. _Pre._ 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. ’Tis a token Of a beloved friend, who is no more. _Vic._ How? dead? _Pre._ Yes; dead to me; and worse than dead. He is estrang’d! And yet I keep this ring. I will rise with it from my grave hereafter, To prove to him that I was never false. _Vic._ (_aside._) Be still, my swelling heart! one moment still! Why ’tis the folly of a love-sick girl. Come, give it me, or I will say ’tis mine, And that you stole it. _Pre._ O you will not dare To utter such a fiendish lie! _Vic._ 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._) _Pre._ ’Tis thou! ’tis 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? _Vic._ Ask me not now, my dearest Preciosa. Let me forget we ever have been parted! _Pre._ Hadst thou not come— _Vic._ I pray thee do not chide me! _Pre._ I should have perished here among these gipsies. _Vic._ Forgive me, sweet! for what I made thee suffer. Think’st thou this heart could feel a moment’s joy, Thou being absent? O believe it not!