DIEGO. To spare thy mother's heart One anxious pang, my mistress, I concealed What now my lips shall tell: 'twas on the day When thy dead husband in the silent tomb Was laid; from every side the unnumbered throng Pressed eager to the solemn rites; thy daughter-- For e'en amid the cloistered shade was noised The funeral pomp, urged me, with ceaseless prayers, To lead her to the festival of Death. In evil hour I gave consent; and, shrouded In sable weeds of mourning, she surveyed Her father's obsequies. With keen reproach My bosom tells (for through the veil her charms Resistless shone), 'twas there, perchance, the spoiler Lurked to betray. DON MANUEL (to himself). Thrice happy words! I live! It was another! ISABELLA (to DIEGO). Faithless! Ill betide Thy treacherous age! DIEGO. Oh, never have I strayed From duty's path! My mistress, in her prayers I heard the voice of Nature; thus from Heaven Ordained,--methought, the secret impulse moves Of kindred blood, to hallow with her tears A father's grave: the tender office owned Thy servant's care, and thus with good intent I wrought but ill. DON MANUEL (to himself). Why stand I thus a prey To torturing fears! No longer will I bear The dread suspense---I will know all! DON CAESAR (who returns). Forgive me, I follow thee. DON MANUEL. Away! Let no man follow. [Exit. DON CAESAR (looking after him in surprise). What means my brother? Speak---- ISABELLA. In wonder lost I gaze; some mystery lurks---- DON CAESAR. Thou mark'st, my mother, My quick return; with eager zeal I flew At thy command, nor asked one trace to guide My footsteps to thy daughter. Whence was torn Thy treasure? Say, what cloistered solitude Enshrined the beauteous maid? ISABELLA. 'Tis consecrate To St. Cecilia; deep in forest shades, Beyond the woody ridge that slowly climbs Toward's Etna's towering throne, it seems a refuge Of parted souls! DON CAESAR. Have courage, trust thy sons; She shall be thine, though with unwearied quest O'er every land and sea I track her presence To earth's extremest bounds: one thought alone Disturbs,--in stranger hands my timorous bride Waits my return; to thy protecting arms I give the pledge of all my joy! She comes; Soon on her faithful bosom thou shalt rest In sweet oblivion of thy cares. [Exit. ISABELLA. When will the ancient curse be stilled that weighs Upon our house? Some mocking demon sports With every new-formed hope, nor envious leaves One hour of joy. So near the haven smiled-- So smooth the treacherous main--secure I deemed My happiness: the storm was lulled; and bright In evening's lustre gleamed the sunny shore! Then through the placid air the tempest sweeps, And bears me to the roaring surge again! [She goes into the interior of the palace, followed by DIEGO. The Scene changes to the Garden.