Don C. I cannot guess; so tell me who it is. Hyp. Not I. Don. C. Why not? Hyp. (mysteriously). Why? Because Mari Franca Was married four leagues out of Salamanca! Don C. Jesting aside, who is it? Hyp. Preciosa. Don C. Impossible! The Count of Lara tells me She is not virtuous. Hyp. Did I say she was? The Roman Emperor Claudius had a wife Whose name was Messalina, as I think; Valeria Messalina was her name. But hist! I see him yonder through the trees, Walking as in a dream. Don C. He comes this way. Hyp. It has been truly said by some wise man, That money, grief, and love cannot be hidden. (Enter VICTORIAN in front.) Vict. Where'er thy step has passed is holy ground! These groves are sacred! I behold thee walking Under these shadowy trees, where we have walked At evening, and I feel thy presence now; Feel that the place has taken a charm from thee, And is forever hallowed. Hyp. Mark him well! See how he strides away with lordly air, Like that odd guest of stone, that grim Commander Who comes to sup with Juan in the play. Don C. What ho! Victorian! Hyp. Wilt thou sup with us? Vict. Hola! amigos! Faith, I did not see you. How fares Don Carlos? Don C. At your service ever. Vict. How is that young and green-eyed Gaditana That you both wot of? Don C. Ay, soft, emerald eyes! She has gone back to Cadiz. Hyp. Ay de mi! Vict. You are much to blame for letting her go back. A pretty girl; and in her tender eyes Just that soft shade of green we sometimes see In evening skies. Hyp. But, speaking of green eyes, Are thine green? Vict. Not a whit. Why so? Hyp. I think The slightest shade of green would be becoming, For thou art jealous. Vid. No, I am not jealous. Hyp. Thou shouldst be. Vict. Why? Hyp. Because thou art in love. And they who are in love are always jealous. Therefore thou shouldst be. Vict. Marry, is that all? Farewell; I am in haste. Farewell, Don Carlos. Thou sayest I should be jealous? Hyp. Ay, in truth I fear there is reason. Be upon thy guard. I hear it whispered that the Count of Lara Lays siege to the same citadel. Vict. Indeed! Then he will have his labor for his pains. Hyp. He does not think so, and Don Carlos tells me He boasts of his success. Vict. How's this, Don Carlos? Don. C. Some hints of it I heard from his own lips. He spoke but lightly of the lady's virtue, As a gay man might speak. Vict. Death and damnation! I'll cut his lying tongue out of his mouth, And throw it to my dog! But no, no, no! This cannot be. You jest, indeed you jest. Trifle with me no more. For otherwise We are no longer friends. And so, fare well! [Exit.