Enter Rolla and Alonzo.

Rol. Here, my friend, we separate—soon, I trust, to meet again in triumph.

Alon. Or perhaps we part to meet no more.—Rolla, a moment’s pause; we are yet before our army’s strength; one earnest word at parting.

Rol. There is in language now no word but battle.

Alon. Yes, one word—one—Cora!

Rol. Cora!—speak!

Alon. The next hour brings us—

Rol. Death or victory!

Alon. It may be victory to one—death to the other.

Rol. Or both may fall.

Alon. If so, my wife and child I bequeath to the protection of Heaven and my king. But should I only fall, Rolla, be thou my heir.

Rol. How?

Alon. Be Cora thy wife—be thou a father to my child.

Rol. Rouse thee, Alonzo! banish these timid fancies.

Alon. Rolla! I have tried in vain, and cannot fly from the foreboding which oppresses me: thou knowest it will not shake me in the fight: but give me the promise I exact.

Rol. If it be Cora’s will—yes—I promise

[Gives his hand.

Alon. Tell her it was my last wish; and bear to her and to my son my last blessing.

Rol. I will.—Now then to our posts, and let our swords speak for us.

[They draw their swords.

Alon. For the king and Cora!

Rol. For Cora and the king.

[Exeunt severally. Alarms without.

Scene IV.—The Peruvian Camp.

Enter an Old Blind Man and a Boy.

Old Man. Have none returned to the camp?

Boy. One messenger alone. From the temple they all marched to meet the foe.