S.: The good friend of Juan de Paredes succeeded in approaching--then in speaking with--and, later, in introducing himself into the house of--and, soon in ingratiating himself in the heart of the criminal.--He spied upon him as the wolf-hunter spies upon his prey,--scrutinized his movements--informed himself of his most insignificant actions. He studied his character, his most hidden motives; he followed him everywhere and at all times and at last discovered the place--the place in which the lair of the beast was hidden! He had but a single love on earth!--And there he fixed his eyes, because fixing his eyes there he thrust a dagger into the assassin’s heart.--Not into his heart, no,--into his very soul!--Because, that love was his daughter--a lovely maiden!---- V.: Continue----! S.: She gave him evidences of her love. V.: Continue----! S.: She loved him with all the blindness and strength of a first love. V.: And he----? S.: He did not love her! Blanca: (From within, with a feeble cry.) Aye! V.: That cry---- S.: A cry?--Did you hear a cry? V.: I thought--perhaps, no--I deceived myself,--continue. S.: And one night--at night! V.: I know it, now!--Be still! his name! S.: He stole her--to dishonor her---- V.: Silence. S.: To defile her---- V.: To defile her!--and, she? Blanca: (Within.) Open. (Violently shakes the door.) S.: Hear her. V.: There--she, there! Wretch--! What have you done? You shall die. (Placing his hand on his swordhilt.) S.: Yes, yes! Come on, infamous assassin; because, I abhor you as I do her. SCENE VIII. The same; also Blanca, who has broken open the door. B.: (Addressing Sancho.) You lie! You do not abhor me! V.: Blanca! S.: (Pointing at Blanca.) Look at her--! look at her--! She was _there_--! (Indicating his inner apartments, where she was.) And when, soon, you die at my hand, Viceroy of Mexico, you will _have suffered two deaths_! V.: (To Blanca.) And is it true----? B.: Sancho! Save me from this dishonor! S.: (Paying no attention to her; to the Viceroy.) When finally a father meets---- V.: (Trying to stop Sancho’s mouth.) Silence, cursed wretch, silence----! S.: Blanca; this is not your guardian, he is--your father! V.: Ah----! B.: My father! (The viceroy and Blanca stand as if stupefied.) S.: (Contemplating them.) And how much a father’s heart must suffer in presenting himself with this sacred title for the first time, to a daughter’s heart. She cannot let him kiss her brow--no, she cannot. B.: (Supplicatingly.) Sancho! S.: He cannot feel his eyes wet with tears of joy--but only with tears of vengeance! How much she must suffer and how much he! V.: Infamy. S.: Infamy, no! because her suffering is multiplied a hundred-fold in yours. V.: (Drawing his sword.) Blanca, you die! B.: (Shrinking, horrified.) Ah!