their lives dearly.  I myself in vain urge them to surrender; scimitar in hand, they listen not to my entreaties, but seeing all their soldiers falling at their feet, and that henceforward alone they defend themselves in vain, they ask for the commander; I entitle myself as such, and they surrender.  I sent you them both at the same time, and the combat ceased for want of combatants.  It is in this manner that for your service——­

Scene IV.—­DON FERNANDO, DON DIEGO, DON RODRIGO, DON ARIAS, DON ALONZO, and DON SANCHO.

Don Alonzo. Sire, Chimene comes to demand justice from you.

Don Fernando. Vexatious news and unwelcome duty!  Go [Rodrigo]; I do not wish her to see thee.  Instead of thanks I must drive thee away; but, before departing, come, let thy King embrace thee!

[Exit Don Rodrigo.]

Don Diego. Chimene pursues him, [yet] she wishes to save him.

Don Fernando. They say that she loves him, and I am going to prove it.  Exhibit a more sorrowful countenance [lit. eye].

Scene V.—­DON FERNANDO, DON DIEGO, DON ARIAS, DON SANCHO, DON ALONZO, CHIMENE, and ELVIRA.

Don Fernando. At last, be content, Chimene, success responds to your wishes.  Although Rodrigo has gained the advantage over our enemies, he has died before our eyes of the wounds he has received; return thanks to that heaven which has avenged you. (To Don Diego.) See, how already her color is changed!

Don Diego. But see! she swoons, and in this swoon, sire, observe the effect of an overpowering [lit. perfect] love.  Her grief has betrayed the secrets of her soul, and no longer permits you to doubt her passion.

Chimene. What, then!  Is Rodrigo dead?

Don Fernando. No, no, he still lives [lit. he sees the day]; and he still preserves for you an unalterable affection; calm this sorrow which takes such an interest in his favor.

Chimene. Sire, we swoon from joy, as well as from grief; an excess of pleasure renders us completely exhausted, and when it takes the mind by surprise, it overpowers the senses.

Don Fernando. Dost thou wish that in thy favor we should believe in impossibilities?  Chimene, thy grief appeared too clearly visible.

Chimene. Well, sire! add this crown to my misfortune—­call my swoon the effect of my grief; a justifiable dissatisfaction reduced me to that extremity; his death would have saved his head from my pursuit.  If he had died of wounds received for the benefit of his country, my revenge would have been lost, and my designs betrayed; such a brilliant end [of his existence] would have been too injurious to me.  I demand his death, but not a glorious one, not with a glory which raises him so high, not on an honorable death-bed, but upon a scaffold.  Let him die for my father and not for his country; let his name be attainted and his