_Fam._ The Gringo's had no fish.

_The man._ Then give me his.

He doesn't care. Has run already from The smell.

_Fam._ I'll give you half. The rest I'll take to him.

_Coq._ He'll come for what he wants.

_Fam._ No, he is sick, poor devil! [_Goes to Chartrien_]

_Coq._ Humph!

_Fam._ [_To Chartrien_] You'll take The chance? There is no other.

_Cha._ It's a trap.

You risk your life for me, a Gringo? No.

_Fam._ You must believe me! Oh, what can I say!

_Cha._ Say nothing. Go.

_Fam._ I love you, love you, Senor!

_Cha._ You would persuade me.

_Fam._ Sir, the wine you found Behind your prison door,--and good, clean bread,-- I put them there!

_Cha._ 'Twas you, Famette? I thought That Coquriez did it,--feared I'd die before The master came.

_Fam._ Not his brute heart! And then That night, of fever----

_Cha._ Yes! What then?

_Fam._ I lay Outside your jail, my head against the wall, That I might hear if once you groaned, or know If sleep had come.

_Cha._ Can such love be for me?

_Fam._ You must--you _must_ believe me!

_Cha._ G.o.d, your eyes!

[_She lowers her head_]

... 'Tis madness, bred of these sun-poisoned days, And nights without a hope.... Look up, Famette.

I do believe you.

_Fam._ [_Kissing her rosary_] Mother, adored and blessed!

_Cha._ Wilt be a beggar soldier's bride, Famette?

_Fam._ You do not love me, Senor.

_Cha._ But I love Your gentle heart that warms mine empty,--love Your eyes, like memories burning,--and your voice That's linked to an old wound in me,--but most I love your soul that is as great as truth And strong as sacrifice. You'll come to me In Quito, if I make escape? I'll find A way to bring you out----

_Fam._ You're mine?

_Cha._ Till death.

_Fam._ And after that?

_Cha._ I'll give you truth for truth.

Beyond this world I hope to meet a soul Who did not walk in this, but ought to have, For here her body dwelt. This side of death, My life--a bitter one, that only you Have sweetened--is your own, if you will have So mean a gift.

[_Ipparro has entered the yard and becomes a centre of altercation.

He starts out taking Lissa's boy, Iduso. There is a shriek from Lissa, and Famette hurries to her_]

_Lis._ My boy! My little one!

G.o.d strike you dead, Ipparro!

_Fam._ You'll not flog The boy?

_Ipp._ He didn't do his stint by half.

You know the master's rules. He's twelve years old.

Must cut three thousand leaves.

_Fam._ A man's full work.

And he's so small.

_Lis._ And sick he is. Two days He couldn't eat.

_Ipp._ You women!

_Fam._ Let him go.

A little child, Ipparro.

_Ipp._ Let him go?

Am I the master of the hacienda?

He'll tie _me_ up to-morrow!

_Fam._ It will kill Iduso.

_Lis._ Such a little one, he is!

A baby yesterday,--to-day a man,-- How can that be?

[_An overseer enters left_]

_Overseer._ What's up? Come on with you!

The master waits,--burns like perdition! Come!

Come, all of you! The women too! Clear out!