If he does not obey me, what a consummation of my sorrow! And, if he can obey me, what will men say of him? being of such noble birth, to endure such an insult! Whether he yields to, or resists the passion which binds him to me, my mind can not be otherwise than either ashamed of his too great deference, or shocked at a just refusal.

Infanta. Chimène has a proud soul, and, though deeply interested, she cannot endure one base (lit. low) thought. But, if up to the day of reconciliation I make this model lover my prisoner, and I thus prevent the effect of his courage, will thine enamored soul take no umbrage at it?

Chimène. Ah! dear lady, in that case I have no more anxiety.

Scene IV.—The INFANTA, CHIMÈNE, LEONORA, and a PAGE.

Infanta. Page, seek Rodrigo, and bring him hither.

Page. The Count de Gormas and he—

Chimène. Good heavens! I tremble!

Infanta. Speak.

Page. From this palace have gone out together.

Chimène. Alone?

Page. Alone, and they seemed in low tones to be wrangling with each other.

Chimène. Without doubt they are fighting; there is no further need of speaking. Madame, forgive my haste (in thus departing). (Exeunt Chimène and Page.)

Scene V.—The INFANTA and LEONORA.

Infanta. Alas! what uneasiness I feel in my mind! I weep for her sorrows, (yet still) her lover enthralls me; my calmness forsakes me, and my passion revives. That which is going to separate Rodrigo from Chimène rekindles at once my hope and my pain; and their separation, which I see with regret, infuses a secret pleasure in mine enamored soul.

Leonora. This noble pride which reigns in your soul, does it so soon surrender to this unworthy passion?

Infanta. Call it not unworthy, since, seated in my heart, proud and triumphant, it asserts its sway (lit. law) over me. Treat it with respect, since it is so dear to me. My pride struggles against it, but, in spite of myself—I hope; and my heart, imperfectly shielded against such a vain expectation, flies after a lover whom Chimène has lost.

Leonora. Do you thus let this noble resolution give way (lit. fall)? And does reason in your mind thus lose its influence?

Infanta. Ah! with how little effect do we listen to reason when the heart is assailed by a poison so delicious, and when the sick man loves his malady! We can hardly endure that any remedy should be applied to it.

Leonora. Your hope beguiles you, your malady is pleasant to you; but, in fact, this Rodrigo is unworthy of you.

Infanta. I know it only too well; but if my pride yields, learn how love flatters a heart which it possesses. If Rodrigo once (or, only) comes forth from the combat as a conqueror, if this great warrior falls beneath his valor, I may consider him worthy of me, and I may love him without shame. What may he not do, if he can conquer the Count? I dare to imagine that, as the least of his exploits, entire kingdoms will fall beneath his laws; and my fond love is already persuaded that I behold him seated on the throne of Granada, the vanquished Moors trembling while paying him homage; Arragon receiving this new conqueror, Portugal surrendering, and his victorious battles (lit. noble days) advancing his proud destinies beyond the seas, laving his laurels with the blood of Africans! In fine, all that is told of the most distinguished warriors I expect from Rodrigo after this victory, and I make my love for him the theme of my glory.

Leonora.