RODRIGUEZ--Now I _know_ thou dost not love me.

LAGRIMAS--(_Slowly._) I do not love thee!

(_Rodriguez looks at her an instant, then walks quickly away._)

LAGRIMAS--I came for something. (_Takes fan from bosom._) My fan? No, no! I do not love thee? Maria, forgive the lie!

(_CURTAIN_)

THE FOLLOWING MORNING

(_A group of Moorish prisoners, five men and two women are on the stage.

The men and women are standing a little apart, the women veiled, all are motionless. Two Spanish soldiers are stationed at either end of the stage. The muezzin is heard from the Valley calling to prayer. The Moors prostrate themselves with face to East, then a.s.sume original position.

There is silence for a moment, and birds are heard singing._)

(_Pedro enters, and goes to the group to look them over._)

PEDRO--Hafiz! He did get thee! Well, thou art a prisoner worth taking, and if I can read the temper of our General, thy infidel soul and body may part company before the sun sets to-night.

(_Moors remain silent. Pedro leaves laughing._)

HAFIZ--What manner of brutes are these Christians!

Ha.s.sAN--What manner of fools are we to be prisoners.

HAFIZ--No man could have forseen the trick of the Spanish Rodriguez, may his forehead be blackened with mud!

(_Cafour sways back and forth, moaning._)

HAFIZ--Soldiers everywhere. There is no chance to escape, unless we go over the wall.

Ha.s.sAN--(_Looking over wall._) We would perish.

CAFOUR--(_To Hafiz._) What have they done with my son?

HAFIZ--The boy has gone the way of death.

CAFOUR--Death! And thou his father, stand calmly by, and know him dead!

HAFIZ--Have I not other sons to avenge him?

CAFOUR--The sons of other mothers, but not of my blood!

Ha.s.sAN--The Spanish General--

(_The Moors again are silent. General enters with Pedro._)

GENERAL--When were they taken?

PEDRO--Last night, General. We tried to get thee, but thy house was closed and dark.

GENERAL--They said eight prisoners. I count but seven.

PEDRO--There was a lad who flung himself over the wall into the Darro.

GENERAL--A brave lad!

PEDRO--We have not looked for the body.

CAFOUR--Oh, my son!

GENERAL--Why are these women here?

PEDRO--They followed the prisoners. The Lieutenant would not have them harmed.

GENERAL--Thy victorious lieutenant hath a tender heart.

PEDRO--Tender? He has proved there is no braver soldier in Spain. Don Rodriguez will be an idol now.

GENERAL--(_Amazed._) Don Rodriguez!

PEDRO--The men who went with him say he did it all as--(_To Cafour._) Back there to thy place.

GENERAL--My son!

CAFOUR--I would speak!

PEDRO--Speak when spoken to. Get back to thy place.

CAFOUR--I would speak to him. (_Pointing to General._)

GENERAL--Remove thy veil.

(_Cafour hesitates a moment, then throws back her veil. The Moors turn their backs, that they may not see her face._)

GENERAL--Thou art not a Moorish woman.

CAFOUR--I am Cafour, the Abyssinian, third wife of Hafiz the Moor.

GENERAL--What dost thou desire of me?

CAFOUR--I want to know of my son.

GENERAL--Thy son?

CAFOUR--It was he who jumped, there. (_Points over the wall._)

PEDRO--The boy who would not be a prisoner.