“Sinner that I am--behold me, master. Thou art not killed--then the old man is?” “Surely, the old can better be spared than the young.” “Rare, rare, my master, to break into the chamber of the daughter, and to kill the father, both in one night. Rare, oh! rare.” “By my faith, he thrust himself upon my sword. Come, let us go. See, torches are flickering near.” And without fear or hurry, the young don moved away, not swaggeringly, yet audaciously, followed by the trembling Leporello. Another moment, and the light of torches was gleaming on the face of the dead. The old man’s daughter, Donna Anna, had hastened away for assistance, and returned with it but to find her father slain, the warm blood gurgling out from his heart on to the cold and thirsty ground. With her was the Don Ottavio, her betrothed, but he was nothing to her in her grief, as she leant over her dead father. Then came the solitary procession, bearing one dead into his house, who but a little while agone was hale and strong, even in his age. Meanwhile, the don was forgetting the tragedy. Even the next evening he was in the streets with Leporello, seeking some new adventures. “Well, Leporello, and pray what is it thou hast to tell me?” “It is important--it is grave.” “Better and better.” “Now good master, promise not to be wrath.” “So that it doth not relate to Don Pedro.” “Unless thou art Don Pedro, it doth not relate to him.” “Speak out!” “Verily, thy life is infamous!” “Rapscallion.” “And thy promise, good master, thy promise.” “What! thou darst to suppose _I_ keep promises.” “To _me_, yes, of a verity, I’m dumb, I’m dumb.” “The way to friendship. Now, why am I here?” “An affair. The name of the damsel, for my list, good master, for the perfectioning of my list.” “Write her down Venus, for she hath her form. I shall whisper her at the Casino; but tarry a little, here cometh one--whom--” “In truth my master hath a good eye.” “At a glance, I see she is handsome.” “And also she hath a brave eye!” “Let us retire a little.” “He hath fired already. O rare.” Into the shadow they crept (the don dealt largely in shadows.) ’Twas a Spanish beauty, and a pensive beauty, who came slowly along. “Lepo, ’tis a damsel who hath need of condolement.” “He hath condoled with many of them, this master of mine.” “Senorita, Senorita. Heaven!” “Ha! ’tis Donna Elvira; O rare--rare.” “‘Tis you, Don Juan--monster, robber!” “‘Tis an old acquaintance, as one shall read by the tongue.” “Donna! quiet, quiet (what misfortune); if thou wilt not believe me, thou’lt believe this worthy gentleman.” “In faith! that’s Leporello--” “He’ll tell thee all; I pray thee turn to him.” And the lady doing so, the don took advantage of the shadow, and was off anywhere. “Well, villain, speak!” “In faith, good lady, it may be declared, seeing the world we live in, that a square is ne’er a round, or equally a round a square; and yet--”