band, passing the secret way, mayst at night return, release thy friend, and bear him back in triumph. Yes, hasten, dear Alonzo! Even now I hear the frantic Cora call thee! Haste! haste! haste!

Alon. Rolla, I fear thy friendship drives me from honour, and from right.

Rol. Did Rolla ever counsel dishonour to his friend?

Alon. Oh! my preserver!

[Embraces him.

Rol. I feel thy warm tears dropping on my cheek. Go! I am rewarded.—[Throws the Friar’s garment over Alonzo.]—There! conceal thy face; and, that they may not clank, hold fast thy chains. Now—God be with thee!

Alon. At night we meet again. Then, so aid me, Heaven! I return to save—or perish with thee!

[Exit.

Rol. [Looking after him.] He has passed the outer porch. He is safe! He will soon embrace his wife and child!—Now, Cora, didst thou not wrong me? This is the first time throughout my life I ever deceived man. Forgive me, God of truth! if I am wrong. Alonzo flatters himself that we shall meet again. Yes—there!—[Lifting his hands to heaven.] Assuredly we shall meet again: there possess in peace the joys of everlasting love and friendship—on earth, imperfect and embittered. I will retire, lest the guard return before Alonzo may have passed their lines.

[Retires into the dungeon.

Enter Elvira.

Elv. No, not Pizarro’s brutal taunts, not the glowing admiration which I feel for this noble youth, shall raise an interest in my harassed bosom which honour would not sanction. If he rejects the vengeance my heart has sworn against the tyrant, whose death alone can save this land, yet shall the delight be mine to restore him to Cora’s arms, to his dear child, and to the unoffending people, whom his virtues guide, and valour guards.—Alonzo, come forth!

Re-enter Rolla.

Ha! who art thou? where is Alonzo?

Rol. Alonzo’s fled.

Elv. Fled!

Rol. Yes—and he must not be pursued. Pardon this roughness,—[Seizing her hand,] but a moment’s precious to Alonzo’s flight.

Elv. What if I call the guard?

Rol. Do so—Alonzo still gains time.

Elv. What if thus I free myself?

[Shows a dagger.

Rol. Strike it to my heart—still, with the convulsive grasp of death, I’ll hold thee fast.