Prec. How strangely gleams through the gigantic trees The red light of the forge! Wild, beckoning shadows Stalk through the forest, ever and anon Rising and bending with the flickering flame, Then flitting into darkness! So within me Strange hopes and fears do beckon to each other, My brightest hopes giving dark fears a being As the light does the shadow. Woe is me How still it is about me, and how lonely! (BARTOLOME rushes in.) Bart. Ho! Preciosa! Prec. O Bartolome! Thou here? Bart. Lo! I am here. Prec. Whence comest thou? Bart. From the rough ridges of the wild Sierra, From caverns in the rocks, from hunger, thirst, And fever! Like a wild wolf to the sheepfold. Come I for thee, my lamb. Prec. O touch me not! The Count of Lara's blood is on thy hands! The Count of Lara's curse is on thy soul! Do not come near me! Pray, begone from here Thou art in danger! They have set a price Upon thy head! Bart. Ay, and I've wandered long Among the mountains; and for many days Have seen no human face, save the rough swineherd's. The wind and rain have been my sole companions. I shouted to them from the rocks thy name, And the loud echo sent it back to me, Till I grew mad. I could not stay from thee, And I am here! Betray me, if thou wilt. Prec. Betray thee? I betray thee? Bart. Preciosa! I come for thee! for thee I thus brave death! Fly with me o'er the borders of this realm! Fly with me! Prec. Speak of that no more. I cannot. I'm thine no longer. Bart. O, recall the time When we were children! how we played together, How we grew up together; how we plighted Our hearts unto each other, even in childhood! Fulfil thy promise, for the hour has come. I'm hunted from the kingdom, like a wolf! Fulfil thy promise. Prec. 'T was my father's promise. Not mine. I never gave my heart to thee, Nor promised thee my hand! Bart. False tongue of woman! And heart more false! Prec. Nay, listen unto me. I will speak frankly. I have never loved thee; I cannot love thee. This is not my fault, It is my destiny. Thou art a man Restless and violent. What wouldst thou with me, A feeble girl, who have not long to live, Whose heart is broken? Seek another wife, Better than I, and fairer; and let not Thy rash and headlong moods estrange her from thee. Thou art unhappy in this hopeless passion, I never sought thy love; never did aught To make thee love me. Yet I pity thee, And most of all I pity thy wild heart, That hurries thee to crimes and deeds of blood, Beware, beware of that. Bart. For thy dear sake I will be gentle. Thou shalt teach me patience. Prec. Then take this farewell, and depart in peace. Thou must not linger here. Bart. Come, come with me. Prec. Hark! I hear footsteps. Bart. I entreat thee, come! Prec. Away! It is in vain.