(_TELASCO starts, murmurs to himself the word_ “shame,” _and falls to the ground—ZORAI throws himself by him._) _Ataliba._ All-merciful God! (_Calls to the attendants_) Come to the assistance of this poor old man. (_Telasco is raised up—the High-Priestess is about to proceed, but the King makes her a sign to be silent, and addresses her and her train_) Enough, ye pious women! I know my duty, and will perform whatever may be required by the ordinances of Manco-Capac. To question you, Alonzo, concerning the truth of the charge alledged against you, were needless;—thy death-like countenance, thy downcast eyes confess the fault too plainly, and thou art lost beyond the possibility of redemption.—Hadst thou excited my provinces to rebel against me; had thy sword deprived me of half my kingdom, I would have given thee my hand, and said, thou didst once save my life, and all that I have I share willingly with thee!—But now, the king alone must speak; the friend must remain silent.—Alonzo, thou art lost beyond the possibility of redemption!—Unhappy youth, what hast thou done! _Alonzo._ Let me die!—Death is no more than I justly deserve, for having repaid with such base ingratitude the unmixed happiness I have enjoyed in this kingdom. Yes, let me die, oh king! (_Falling upon his knees_) But save, save, the hapless Cora!—she is innocent!—her seducer only is guilty! _Ataliba._ Rise!—My power is confined within certain limits: and in no respect is it so rigidly circumscribed as in all matters which concern religion. (_He stands for some moments wrapt in mournful musing, and apparently struggling with himself, then says, with averted countenance_) Guards, put him in irons! (_To the High-Priest_) Assemble your priests in the court of the temple, to judge the culprits according to our holy laws and customs; and ere the sun sink into the ocean, let me be summoned to confirm the sentence. (_Going_) _Xaira._ Sire, it is necessary the father and brother should also be put in irons. _Ataliba._ Poor old man!—he will not run away from you! _Xaira._ The brother at least. _Ataliba._ Well, if it must be!—(_Zorai is put in irons_) Oh what misery is it to be king when one is compelled to punish! (_Exit_) _High-Priestess._ (_To the High-Priest_) Hasten, thou first servant of our gods, hasten to avenge your masters, that this very evening the last rays of the declining sun may beam upon the grave which encloses Cora—Go, ye daughters of the sun, bow yourselves down in prayer, wash the altar with your tears, and conceal your blushing cheeks beneath sevenfold veils, till the disgrace with which our Order has been branded by that profligate stranger, be wholly effaced!—(_Exit, followed by the Virgins of the Sun_) _High-Priest._ (_Aside_) Poor Rolla! (_Exit_) _Xaira._ (_To some of the other Priests_) Go out at the northern gate, and prepare a grave in that waste and desolate spot which is distinguished by numerous heaps of stones.