But fondly thinking that he loved me as
  I then loved him, I listened to his suit;
  Nor was I undeceived, till, ah! too late. D. PAS. This is most monstrous! Noble Queen, I vow
  Your sorrows move me to forget mine own. I would I had the traitor by the throat,
  That I might show him once how I esteem
  Him and his villainy. Nay, 'tis a crime
  That calls aloud to Heaven for vengeance. Thou art nought to me Queen, but yet I feel
  The wrong done towards thee e'en as though thou wert
  My own true flesh and blood. I'd do as much
  E'en wert thou thrice mine enemy. I swear
  That should this traitor ever cross my path,
  Or he or the false priest (I care not which--
  Aye, both together, for 'tis nought to me),
  By Heaven I swear----

  GIP. Q. Hold! Heaven's instruments
  Are ever preordained. Thou canst not move
  One single step; nay, more, not e'en thy pulse
  Could throb again but for the will of Heaven. Leave him to Fate, for vengeance due will fall
  In time, and from that quarter Heaven wills. D. PAS. True Queen, but tell me more, I fain would know,
  What said your royal sire King Djâbel? GIP. Q. Then list, and thou shalt hear how Djâbel's spies
  Did intercept the lines that this false lord
  Wrote to his profligate and perjured friend,
  So that he received them not. But now mark
  What did my royal father? First he went
  To seek a Christian priest, long known to him,
  Albeit, unknown to this same haughty don;
  To him he showed the lines, and through his aid. Was writ an answer to this foul epistle,
  As coming from the friend of this false lord. This priest was father Miguel. D. PAS. Ha! that name. Why beats my heart as it ne'er throbbed before? Say, what is this new light that bursts upon
  My whilom darkened soul? What power is this
  That stirs my thoughts within me? But proceed. I must, and will know more. Proceed, O Queen. My frame doth tremble in expectancy
  For thy next word. Tell me, oh, tell me if----

  GIP. Q. (_Aside._) Already he doth divine what I would say;
  Be still, my heart, and give me strength to tell it. (_Aloud._) This letter, then, by Father Miguel forged,
  Ran thus in substance. Making first excuse
  That sudden illness made him keep his bed,
  But though unable to oblige his friend,
  Did, ne'ertheless, not to disappoint him,
  (Hearing the case was urgent, and not knowing
  How long it might be e'er he should recover)
  He thought to do not wrong in sending one,
  A trusty friend and boon companion,
  One, Don Elviro hight, to act as proxy;
  This was the name that Father Miguel bore
  To mask his own. Then straightway he set forth
  T'wards the inn, from which the letter dated,
  The while my lord, who, reading in hot haste
  The letter through, and doubting not that he
  Were aught else than what the letter stated
  (To wit, Elviro, and no priest at all). So sure was he of this, suspecting nought,
  He fondly welcomed him, and many a joke
  They cracked together o'er the heartless scheme. Don Miguel acting well his part throughout
  With ribald jest, and oft full merrily
  Alluding to his tonsure newly shorn,
  Asked of his patron how he liked his garb,
  And if he did not look a priest indeed. At this his lord laughed heartily, and thus
  Time passed away till I should don the veil,
  And we were married before witnesses. The ceremony over, all passed o'er
  Right merrily, nor knows my lord e'en now,
  Not even to this day, that he is married. D. PAS. Well done, by Heaven! And Father Miguel hail! So was the base would-be seducer paid
  Back in his own base coin. This should e'er be. GIP. Q. Ay, but thinkest thou I knew aught of this,
  Or was partaker in Don Miguel's scheme? Oh, no; of this my father told me nought,
  Nor knew I aught of all this base intrigue,
  This would-be marriage false, by false priest blessed,
  Till later years; in fact, until the time
  That King Djâbel upon his death bed lay. He then confessed to me the foul design
  By him so ably thwarted. But e'en then
  The traitor had abandoned me already. He thought his marriage false, and told me plain
  I had no hold on him. I sought my sire,
  And then the truth came out. The blow was great,
  To find myself abandoned and deceived
  By him I loved and trusted, e'en though I
  Knew well that I stood right before the law,
  He had no right to leave me, that I knew. 'Twas heartless, as I then was big with child;
  His father, too, was dead, old Don Fernand,
  And I, by rights, his castle should have shared,
  As he had promised, but old King Djâbel
  Did counsel me, "Be patient yet awhile;
  A day will come when thou shalt vengeance take. Nature hath made me prophet. I can see
  Now that my sun is sinking far beyond
  This earthly sphere, all that shall come to pass
  In future years. Delay thy vengeance, then,
  Still a few years, and I will be thy guide;
  I, Djâbel, from over this side the grave
  Will guide thy steps and shape thy destinies
  Until the hour arrive." Thus spake Djâbel,
  And falling back upon his rugged couch,
  Did breathe his last, clasping my hand in his;
  He now sleeps with his fathers. Rest his soul! And I, now left an orphan, and so young;
  Abandoned, too, by the base man I loved,
  How fared it with me, being then with child? The days of mourning for my father o'er,
  I could not keep my mind from wandering back
  To our first days of courtship, when my lord
  First wooed me, and did win my virgin heart. I dwelt upon the memory of his words--
  How he had promised me in days of yore,
  His father being dead, old Don Fernand,
  That I should mistress of his castle be. How had he kept his promise? Don Fernand
  Was long since dead, yet he no offer made
  About his castle, but did keep me e'er
  Within a little cottage that he built
  During his father's lifetime for me, when
  We first were married. Here I lived content,
  For he then oft would visit me, and when
  He came not, yet I had full trust in him,
  And waited patiently, beguiling time
  By tending flowers in my garden home,
  For this was aye my passion from a child,
  And thus the hours passed full happily. But one day, seeing my lord with murky brow,
  And not divining what the cause mote be,
  I, with fond heart and young simplicity,
  Did offer all that consolation
  That loving wife will offer to her lord
  In moments of deep sadness. But he spurned
  Me coldly from him, and when I did ask
  In what way I had my lord offended,
  Deigning no direct reply, made answer,
  He loved me not. I had no hold on him,
  Should ne'er be mistress of his father's hall,
  Our marriage being but a mockery,
  To last as long as it should please himself. He left me with a laugh of bitter scorn,
  Whilst I, as if by lightning struck, did fall
  Flat to the earth, and waking, sought my sire. Thou knowest how my father, dying, left
  A promise he would ever guide my steps
  In hour of vengeance; so I patience kept. Meanwhile our son was born. That son _art thou_! D. PAS. Oh, mother!