Piz. Tell me, does it resemble Cora?

Rol. Pizarro! thou hast set my heart on fire. If thou dost harm that child, think not his blood will sink into the barren sand. No! faithful to the eager hope that now trembles in this indignant heart, ’twill rise to the common God of nature and humanity, and cry aloud for vengeance on his accursed destroyer’s head.

Piz. Be that peril mine.

Rol. [Throwing himself at his feet.] Behold me at thy feet—me, Rolla!—me, the preserver of thy life!—me, that have never yet bent or bowed before created man! In humble agony I sue to thee—prostrate I implore thee—but spare that child, and I will be thy slave.

Piz. Rolla; still art thou free to go—this boy remains with me.

Rol. Then was this sword Heaven’s gift, not thine!—[Seizes the Child.] Who moves one step to follow me, dies upon the spot.

[Exit with the Child.

Piz. Pursue him instantly—but spare his life.—[Exeunt Davilla and Almagro, with Soldiers.] With what fury he defends himself! Ha! he fells them to the ground—and now—

Re-enter Almagro.

Alm. Three of your brave soldiers are already victims to your commands to spare this madman’s life; and if he once gain the thicket—

Piz. Spare him no longer.—[Exit Almagro.] Their guns must reach him—he’ll escape yet—holloa to those horse—the Peruvian sees them—and now he turns among the rocks—then is his retreat cut off.—[Rolla crosses the wooden bridge over the cataract, pursued by the Soldiers—they fire at him—a shot strikes him.] Now!—quick! quick! seize the child!

[Rolla tears from the rock the tree which supports the bridge, and retreats by the background bearing off the Child.

Re-enter Almagro and Davilla.

Alm. By hell! he has escaped! and with the child unhurt.

Dav. No—he bears his death with him. Believe me, I saw him struck upon the side.

Piz. But the child is saved—Alonzo’s child! Oh, the furies of disappointed vengeance!

Alm. Away with the revenge of words—let us to deeds! Forget not we have acquired the knowledge of the secret pass, which through the rocky cavern’s gloom brings you at once to the strong-hold, where are lodged their women and their treasures.

Piz. Right, Almagro! Swift as thy thought, draw forth a daring and a chosen band—I will not wait for numbers. Stay, Almagro! Valverde is informed Elvira dies to-day?

Alm. He is—and one request alone she—

Piz. I’ll hear of none.

Alm. The boon is small—’tis but for the noviciate habit which you first beheld her in—she wishes not to suffer in the gaudy trappings which remind her of her shame.