“Mercy, fair lady! Thou art mercy’s self, and even kings must here obey. But thou shalt be the don’s best hostage for his loyalty.” “Nay! my king. Is there no other hostage for a loyalty yet unshaken? She is my only hope, my only joy. I have loved her from her very birth. My king, thou wilt--thou wilt not take her from me?” “Then Ernani. One or the other.” “Nay, I am steadfast in my loyalty. Therefore--please you, my king--take her--my hope, my life.” “Come, lady,” said the king, seizing the hand of the luckless lady. “Come, I’ll strew thy path with flowers. Time shall bring thee no heavy hours. Rather let smiles be where now are tears and whitened cheeks. Come, come.” So with his prey the Christian king departed, leaving the old lord bent and wretched with grief. But not for long--not for long. Now, his eyes sparkled, for hate was there. His head was erect again, and his breath came and went in short angry catches. He ran to the secret door, and as though calling to a dog, he bade the robber chief come forth. As Ernani stepped into the room, the grandee ran to the wall, and took down a couple of swords. “Now, robber, doubly robber, vengeance is mine.” “What! will a grandee fight with a poor bandit?” “At least, thou wast born noble, even if now thou art vile. Follow me!” “No, no.” “What--has all nobility left thee?” “I am still too noble to fight with age, Senor.” “See--is my hand firm?” “Again, thou hast saved my life!” “That I might take it from thee.” “Ah, well! Kill me, thou hast the right, perhaps.” “Kill thee.” And the old lord raised his sword as though a rat were before him. “Kill, kill. Yet hear a prayer of mine.” “Prayers are for heaven, not man.” “‘Tis a prayer to man--to thee.” “Speak on.” “But once again, but once again, let me see Elvira.” “If thou wouldst see her, thou must travel. The king has torn her from me.” “The king, the KING! Old man, the king loves Elvira.” “Loves--loves Elvira! The king loves Elvira! Vassals, vassals,” he weakly called as he staggered to a seat. “Nay, call me vassal, and the strength of this strong heart and arm is thine.” “Stand from me. Aid from thee--from thee! Thou who art doomed to die.” “My life is thine. I know my life is thine. At any time my life is thine. But let me live to hate where now thou hatest so strongly.” “Thy life at _any_ time is mine. True. Well, wilt thou promise me thy life at any time I ask it?” The other hesitated for a moment. Then took from his side his hunting-horn, and placed it in the unwilling hands of the old lord. “Take thou this horn, when from it sounds a blast, ’Twill tell Ernani that his days are past.” “Upon what dost swear that oath?” “The memory of my murdered father.” “So be it. Let heaven’s darkness fall on thee if thou dost break thy word.” PART III.--THE PARDON.