_Rolla._ (_Turning to his followers_) You seize me!—you put me in chains!—which among you will do this?—You perhaps, my old companion in battle, with whom I once shared my last morsel when famine stared us in the face?—or you, whose life I saved in the field of Tumibamba?—or you, whose son I rescued from the enemy’s hands, even at the moment when the lance was pointed against his breast?—Which among you will seize me?—Speak? _High-Priest._ Rolla, my adopted son, how am I bowed down by this scene. Would you see me, miserable old man, as I am, prostrate at your feet? _Rolla._ Forbear!—I honour you as a father, but do not spread out your hands to the stormy winds,—it is in vain! (_The High-Priest is about to proceed in his entreaties, but Rolla prevents him impatiently_) Uncle, no more!—the lots are cast, and whatever may be the consequence I am resolved to save Cora. _Cora._ (_Goes up to Rolla, embraces and kisses him_) Brother, take this kiss from your sister, and let these tears speak my gratitude for love so ardent. Your soul is truly noble,—this day, for the first time in my life, have I really known you. But one so great, so good, must be his sovereign’s friend. Cora has been guilty of a crime, and would you seek to shelter her by the commission of another? Oh, what an added weight of remorse would that reflection heap upon my already overburthened conscience!—No, Rolla, do not act thus beneath yourself!—do not seek to snatch the reins from the hands of God, who assuredly directs my fate!—Suffer me to die!—I have received my father’s and my brother’s forgiveness; Alonzo dies with me, and I die contentedly. Our spirits shall hover around you, and will rejoice when they behold you true to your king, and devoting all your powers to the service of your country.—resolve to endure the remainder of your life without me!—it is my last request, and I know that Rolla will yield to Cora’s entreaty; then will she have performed a good action at her departure from the world, and will be indebted to her brother for that grateful reflection. Yes, Rolla, I see the clouds upon your brow dispersing, I see tears start into your eyes—do not repress them,—give them free scope—they are no disgrace even to the eyes of a warrior.—And now, my brother, give me your sword, your javelin!—(_She takes his sword and javelin gently out of his hands, and lays them at Ataliba’s feet_) Behold now a hero indeed!—With those tears that are trembling on his cheeks, has he washed away the stain which was beginning to tarnish his fame and virtue—now Rolla, I am indeed proud of your love!—One only effort sill remains, throw yourself at the feet of our good king—kneel to him, and let virtue remain sole victor! (_She draws him gently towards Ataliba, at whose feet she throws herself.—Rolla, after a few moments’ struggle with himself, kneels by her—Cora addresses the king_) Oh sovereign of Quito, I bring you back