Cora. Mild innocence, what will become of thee?

Enter Rolla.

Rol. Cora, I attend thy summons at the appointed spot.

Cora. Oh my child, my boy! hast thou still a father?

Rol. Cora can thy child be fatherless, while Rolla lives!

Cora. Will he not soon want a mother too? For canst thou think I will survive Alonzo’s loss?

Rol. Yes! for his child’s sake. Yes, as thou didst love Alonzo, Cora, listen to Alonzo’s friend.

Coro. You bid me listen to the world.—Who was not Alonzo’s friend?

Rol. His parting words—

Cora. His parting words!—[Wildly.] Oh, speak!

Rol. Consigned to me two precious trusts—his blessing to his son, and a last request to thee.

Cora. His last request! his last!—Oh, name it!

Rol. If I fall, said he (and sad forebodings shook him while he spoke), promise to take my Cora for thy wife; be thou a father to my child.—I pledged my word to him, and we parted. Observe me, Cora, I repeat this only as my faith to do so was given to Alonzo: for myself, I neither cherish claim nor hope.

Cora. Ha! Does my reason fail me, or what is this horrid light that presses on my brain? O Alonzo! it may be thou hast fallen a victim to thy own guileless heart: hadst thou been silent, hadst thou not made a fatal legacy of these wretched charms—

Rol. Cora! what hateful suspicion has possessed thy mind!

Cora. Yes, yes, ’tis clear!—his spirit was ensnared; he was led to the fatal spot, where mortal valour could not front a host of murderers. He fell—in vain did he exclaim for help to Rolla. At a distance you looked on and smiled: you could have saved him—could—but did not.

Rol. Oh glorious sun! can I have deserved this?—Cora, rather bid me strike this sword into my heart.

Cora. No!—live! live for love!—for that love thou seekest; whose blossoms are to shoot from the bleeding grave of thy betrayed and slaughtered friend! But thou hast borne to me the last words of my Alonzo! now hear mine: sooner shall this boy draw poison from this tortured breast—sooner would I link me to the pallid corse of the meanest wretch that perished with Alonzo, than he call Rolla father—than I call Rolla husband!

Rol. Yet call me what I am—thy friend, thy protector!

Cora. [Distractedly.] Away! I have no protector but my God! With this child in my arms will I hasten to the field of slaughter; there with these hands will I turn up to the light every mangled body, seeking, howe’er by death disfigured, the sweet smile of my Alonzo: with fearful cries I will shriek out his name till my veins snap! If the smallest spark of life remain, he will know the voice of his Cora, open for a moment his unshrouded eyes, and bless me with a last look. But if we find him not—oh! then, my boy, we will to the Spanish camp; that look of thine will win my passage through a thousand swords—they too are men. Is there a heart that could drive back the wife that seeks her bleeding husband; or the innocent babe that cries for his imprisoned father? No, no, my child, everywhere we shall be safe. A wretched