_Juan._ Yes, yes, I forgive you freely; but you must inscribe this sacrifice deeply in your heart; for, by Heaven! the loss of my night’s rest—yet, no, rather than lose it, I will repose under the trees. (_He spreads out his cloak, and lies down upon it_) It is always good to make a virtue of necessity; so, with the sage remark, that weariness is the best of all opiates, I wish you a good night, Alonzo. He who has an unsullied conscience can sleep, even with the trunk of a tree only for his pillow, as soundly as the seven sleepers themselves. (_He closes his eyes._) _Diego._ (_Also spreading himself a bed_) If there should happen to be a rattle-snake or two hereabouts—or, perchance, a tyger as hungry as myself!—Hold! an idea occurs to me. (_He takes out a rosary, which he hangs upon the nearest tree_) Now I think we are safe. (_He lies down_) If I can sleep now, who will say that I am not a master in the trade; for my head is full of thought, my heart full of fear, and my poor stomach quite empty. (_He falls asleep._) _Alonzo._ (_Contemplates both for a while, then exclaims_) Happy men! (_He leans in musing melancholy against a tree._) (_The Curtain falls._) END OF THE FIRST ACT. ACT II. SCENE I.—_The Scene remains the same as at the Close of the first Act. DON JUAN and DIEGO are still sleeping.—ALONZO walks about mournfully among the Trees._ ALONZO. Will this night never come to an end?—The stars still twinkle in the heavens, the moon scarcely yet begins to lose her lustre, and a deep and solemn silence reigns around.—More grateful to the sinner’s soul are noise and tumult, for they assist to deaden the voice of conscience.—What said the fool Diego lately?—that it is the same with conscience as with the stomach, the moment either compels us to feel its existence, we may be sure it is not in perfect health.—And the fool spoke truly.—Oh my excellent mother! thy golden instructions may one day conduct me into a better world—they have not taught me how to conduct myself in another hemisphere!—Perhaps at this very moment thou art upon thy knees, praying for a blessing upon thy fallen son!—Ah, pray for him! intercede for him!—he needs the intercession of a saint!—But away, away ye gloomy thoughts!—All may yet be well!—Night is followed by twilight—twilight by the first rays of the rising sun!—(_Looking towards the east_) And see there the precursor of returning joy!—Already the east begins to be streaked with purple, and the stars are disappearing.—Hist! I hear the chirping of a distant bird!—the moment draws near which is to bring Cora back to her Alonzo!—while I press her to my bosom, conscience is mute, and I can laugh at danger. I will awaken these sleepers. (_He shakes Diego_) Diego, rise,—it is already day. _Diego._ (_Rubbing his eyes_) Hey!—how!—you joke! it is still dark. _Alonzo._ No, no, the moon is going down, the stars are vanishing.