THE KING: That brigand is not worthy of you. A throne Is waiting. If you will not come with me, My men must carry you away by force. [_While he is talking_ HERNANI _appears_. HERNANI: King Charles, you are a coward and a cur! DOÑA SOL (_clasping him_): Save me! HERNANI: I will, my love. THE KING: Where are my men? HERNANI: In my hands. I have sixty followers Waiting out there. And now a word with you. Your father killed my father; you have stolen My lands and titles from me; and I vowed To kill you. THE KING: Titles? Lands? Who are you, then? HERNANI: But meeting Doña Sol, I lost all thought Of vengeance. Now I come to rescue her, And find you in my path again--a wretch Using his strength against a helpless girl. Quick! Draw your sword, and prove you are a man! THE KING: I am your king. I shall not fight with you. Strike if you want to murder me. HERNANI: You think I hold with the divinity of kings? Now, will you fight? [_Striking him with the flat of his sword_. THE KING: I will not. Murder me, You bandit, as you murder every man That you desire to rob! Cross swords with you? A common thief? No; get to your trade. Creep round; assassinate me from behind! [KING CHARLES _fixes his fierce, hawk-like eyes on the young brigand._ HERNANI _recoils, lowers his sword; then, moved beyond himself by the strength of character displayed by_ THE KING, _he breaks his blade on the pavement._ HERNANI: Be off, then. THE KING: Very well, sir. I shall set A price upon your head, and hound you down. HERNANI: I cannot kill you now, with Doña Sol Looking at us. But I will keep my vow When next we meet. THE KING: Never shall you obtain Mercy, respite, or pardon at my hands. [_He departs._ DOÑA SOL: Now let us fly. HERNANI: No; I must go alone. It means death! Did you see King Charles's face? It means death. Oh, my love, my sweet, true love! You would have shared with me the wild, rough life I lead up in the mountains: the green couch Beneath the trees, the water from the brook. But now I shall be hunted down and killed. You must not come. Good-bye. DOÑA SOL: Oh, Hernani! Will you leave me like this? HERNANI: No, I will stay! Fold your arms closely round me, love, and rest Your dear head on my shoulder. Let us talk In whispers, as we used to, when I came At night beneath your window. Do you still Remember our first meeting? [_There is a clash of bells._ DOÑA SOL: Hernani, It is the tocsin!