Would that thine
  Had taught thee what this Christian's has
  taught him. FIRST GIPSY. (_To Second Gipsy_). The queen doth mock us, calls us
      cowards, slaves;
  And yet we did our best; but, to say sooth,
  He set upon us in such furious haste,
  Such blind and desperate rage, that we did gape
  With sheer wonder, and stand aghast with awe
  At's prowess, when we should have been fighting. SECOND GIPSY. Ay, none but a madman tired of his life
  Had fought so desperately. THIRD GIPSY. The maid recovers. INEZ. (_Recovering._) Where am I? Ah! then 'tis no dream; 'tis true. Where's my preserver? Let me straight to him,
  That I may thank him on my bended knees
  For all his deeds to-day. A GIPSY. There, low he lies. INEZ. (_Rising and advancing towards Pascual_). What! dead! Oh,
      heavens! Grant it be not so. Look, now he moves; then life is not extinct. Thank God for this! Hail, generous friend! What cheer? PAS. 'Tis but a bruise, fair maid; 'twill soon be well. INEZ. God grant it may. GIP. Q. Here, girl, take this balsam. It is a gipsy cure for all such wounds. One fair action doth demand another:
  For you he shed his blood, thinking that we
  Did mean you harm. (How should he tell, poor youth?) Return now you the courtesy, fair maid;
  Bind up his wounds. Anon I will assist. [_Inez commences binding up Pascual's head. The gipsies
          retire a few paces. The Gipsy Queen fetches water in a
          gourd._

  Quaff from this gourd, young man. The flowing rill
  Doth yield thee medicine. [_Pascual drinks._
      Ha! what is this? Shade of my father Djâbel! it is _he_! My long lost son! my own, my valiant boy:
  Methought I knew that semi-gipsy form. The very ring, too, wrought in virgin gold
  And graven o'er with mystic hieroglyphics--
  An heirloom of our tribe that I him gave
  With my maternal blessing years gone by,
  And he hath kept till now. God, I thank thee. Oh, how I long to press him to this breast! This breast that nurtured him and gave him strength! But patience; too precipitous a step
  May mar my plans. Enough, I've found my son. Oh, ye great Powers that move earth and heaven,
  Accept a mother's thanks! I faint for joy. FIRST GIPSY. How far'st thou, noble Queen? Thou art not well. GIP. Q. Nay, marry, I am well. I'm over well. [_Staggering._

  SECOND GIPSY. Look to our queen. She faints. Art wounded, queen? GIP. Q. (_Mastering herself._) Nay, look, I faint not. I am very well. THIRD GIPSY. Some strong emotion seems to have stirred our Queen
  But yet she masters it. How brave a spirit! [_Gipsies retire some paces and converse in groups. Gipsy
          Queen remains a little distance off, watching Inez and
          Pascual. A hunter passes above unseen._

  HUNTER. (_Aside._) What's this? Whom have the gipsies captured now? A fair maid and a gallant cavalier;
  And who is he, yon serving-man, bound there? I ought to know his face. Why is not he
  Don Silvio's servant Pedro? Sure it is,
  For oft I've parleyed with him when at times
  I've brought the game up to his master's hall. And these two gentle-folks I ween must be
  Guests at Don Silvio's castle. Ah, the knaves! The arrant gipsy knaves! I'll dog them yet. I've my own private wrongs that seek redress:
  And I'll be even with them, by the saints! At once I'll off unto Don Silvio's hall,
  And warn him of the danger to his guests. It may be he'll reward me slightly, though
  They say that his is but a stingy house. Still, this much for humanity I'll do. [_Exit._

  D. PAS. (_to Inez._) Nay, I assure you, dearest----

  INEZ. Hush! Señor. It ill becomes a maid of gentle blood
  Unblushingly to listen to the vows
  And fervid protestations of a knight
  Upon such slight acquaintance. D. PAS. Lovely child! Bid me but hope, and I will rest content. INEZ. Nay, talk not thus, Señor. Pray calm yourself. Bethink you that your wound is not yet healed. You're faint from loss of blood. These ecstacies
  May e'en prove fatal. Do thyself no harm. D. PAS. I feel recovered in that thou bidst me live;
  And so will do thy bidding, fairest maid,
  And live but for thy service and thy love. INEZ. Good saints in Heaven! Will nothing calm thy tongue? Hush, hush, Señor, I pray. I may not listen. I am your debtor, or I'd take offence
  At too much boldness. D. PAS. Be not harsh, fair maid,
  I meant not to be overbold. I swear
  I would the tongue that could give thee offence
  Were wrenched from out my throat. Oh, pity me! It was thy beauty that inflamed me so. INEZ. If so, I must retire, and leave you to
  The care and guidance of the gipsy queen. D. PAS. Thou couldst not be so cruel. What! debar
  Your wounded knight, in this wild barren spot,
  From the sunshine of those heavenly orbs. Then bid me bleed to death. My life is thine. INEZ. (_Aside_) Poor youth! How full of passion are his words! I feel he loves me, and I do repent
  That I have spoke too harshly. Woe is me! (_Aloud._ ) Fret not. I did but threaten, gentle youth! I will not leave thee. D. PAS. Oh, say that again. Thou wilt not leave me. INEZ. (_Confused._)     That is, not yet. I mean----

  D. PAS. Nay, qualify not what was once well said;
  I hold thee to thy word. Thou must not leave me. INEZ. Thou wouldst extort a promise. Be but calm,
  Obey my orders until thou be well,
  And I know not what I may not promise. D. PAS. I will obey thee, maid. INEZ. Then now be still. GIP. Q. (_Aside._) Drift on, young turtle doves, adown the stream
  The balmy course the stars map out for ye. Pepa can look on at the joys of others
  That were denied herself, unenvying. But mark, Pascual, if thou dost inherit
  But one drop of thy hated father's blood,
  Whose cursed name shall ne'er more pass my lips,
  And thou, with subtle wile, like to thy sire,
  Should first attempt to gain the trusting love
  Of this fair damsel, and then betray her,
  I, Pepa, though thy mother, with this hand
  Will quench that spark of life I gave to thee. SCENE III.--_Study of Don Silvio. D. Silvio is discovered pacing up and
down dejectedly._

  D. SIL. The day wears on, and still there is no sign
  Of Pedro and my daughter. 'Tis full time. It wants an hour to sundown; and ere then
  I dread another visit from Don Diego;
  Before this sand is spent he will be here. He never yet did come behind his time. Hark! I hear footsteps in the corridor. 'Tis he. He's come for news about my daughter. This the very night, too, of the wedding. What shall I say to him, or how shall I----? _An abrupt knock at the door of the study, and enter_ DON DIEGO. D. DIE. Well, friend Silvio, well. Art thou nigh prepared? Where is the gentle Inez? Bring her forth. D. SIL. (_Humbly._) Worthy Don Diego, I do much regret
  My daughter Inez has not yet arrived. D. DIE. Not yet arrived! Why it's long past the time. D. SIL. I doubt not but what she will soon be here. D. DIE. Soon! Didst thou say soon? Ay, marry ought she,
  An she left St. Ursula's at daybreak.