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Eus. If thou desirest
My good, pray that I die not unconfessed.
Al. I will, and farther promise thee,
so much

Thy clemency has touched me, that when-
e'er

Thou summonest, my desert I'll forsake,
And hasten to confess thee. I'm a priest,

And named Alberto.

Eus. Dost thou promise this? Al. Pledging my hand. Eus. Grateful I kiss thy feet. Alberto departs, escorted by the banditti who had brought him in, and another robber enters with intelligence that the senate of Sienna has given to Curcio authority to execute the sentence passed against Eusebio, and that Julia is placed in a convent. Encouraged, probably by his prospect of being insured leisure for repentance, confession, and absolution, Eusebio instantly determines to break into the convent, and carry off his beloved, comforting himself farther with the judicious reflection, that he cannot possibly be much worse than, as a robber and murderer, he already is. He sends his informant to collect the band, and, whilst he waits for them, the Gracioso and Graciosa come in, filling up the time with Gil's boastings of the deeds he will achieve against Eusebio, and his terror when he recognizes the redoubted captain of banditti. The gang now return, bringing news of the approach of Curcio with a sort of posse comitatus at his heels. Eusebio says, that, having other business in hand, they will, for the present, avoid Curcio and his party. He then commands Gil and Mengua to be tied to separate trees blindfolded, that they may not be able to betray the robbers' course, charges them with a message for Curcio touching the honourable manner in which he had encountered and killed

Lisardo, kindly procuring for him, prior to death, the means of confession, and then leads off his troop to effect his meditated sacrilege. Gil and Mengua, left by themselves, and bound at a distance from each other, wrangle humourously as to which shall first release the other, until Curcio and his subaltern ministers of justice arrive to render that service to both. The villagers dilate upon the atrocities perpetrated by Eusebio, and point out the numerous crosses erected over the graves of his victims. Curcio looking round, instantly recognizes the spot to which he had formerly betrayed his suspect

ed wife. Overpowered with remorseful recollections, he dismisses his followers to seek farther for the banditti, and when he remains alone, in a burst of sorrow, self-accusation, and repentance, not unskilfully managed, takes up his story at the very point at which he was interrupted in relating it to Julia. He recalls to mind his accusations-Rosmira's assertions of innocence-her embracing the cross he now beholds as a safeguard--the wounds which he had, nevertheless, sacrilegiously inflicted upon her, leaving her for dead-his amazement when, upon returning home, he had found her there before him unwounded, but with Julia in her arms, whom she had brought forth at the foot of the cross, and who, in consequence, had a cross of blood and fire stamped upon her bosom-his subsequent conviction of Rosinira's innocence, to prove which so great a miracle had been wrought-and his regrets that a twin brother or sister of Julia's had been left upon the mountain-Curcio's recollections are here abruptly checked by a report, that the banditti had been discovered at a distance, and he departs to join in their pursuit.

In the next scene, Eusebio and a couple of robbers appear with a ladder under the walls of Julia's convent. The captain scales the sacred precincts, leaving his comrades to await his return, and immediately presents himself, alone, in a corridor of the convent, saying,

The convent I have search'd all o'er,
With happily unnoticed tread;
Have peep'd through many an open door,
At many a wrinkled nun a-bed,
But her for whom I all explore,
My Julia, nowhere can I find.
Ye doubtful hopes, where would ye guide?
The darkness! Upon ev'ry side
How dumb this silence! and how blind
What horrors crowd upon my mind!
-But I see light-another cell-
And in it Julia! All is well!

(Draws a curtain, and discovers JULIA
asleep.)

What! does my daring spirit quail?
To speak do I now hesitate?
Why pause? Or further what await?
What varying impulses assail
My soul, that, when my fears prevail,
A mad audacity inspire;
When resolute, damp valour's fire
With fearfulness most cowardly!
New lustre do her charms acquire
From that mean garb; for purity

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Is woman's chiefest loveliness.
Her beauty, which dishonest love
Awoke, does now more rarely move;
Though rousing passion to excess,
It chills me with profound respect.
Julia!

Jul. Who calls? Heaven be mine aid!
A lawless wish's dread effect
Art thou, or fancy-pictured shade?
Eus. Thus can my presence terrify?
Jul. Who would not from such pre-
sence fly?

Eus. Fly not!

Jul. Unreal image, say, Illusive phantom of the eye,

Copied from my uneasy thought,

What would'st? Lest time my griefs allay,

Art thou a sound, a vision wrought
By feverish imagination,

To fill my sickly soul with perturbation?
Eus. Julia, Eusebio's self am I,
Alive, and kneeling at thy feet.
Were I a thought, incessantly
Should I inhabit thy retreat.

Jul. I listen, and now comprehend;
But ah, Eusebio, undeceived,
My heart is but the more aggrieved.
Mine honour, which thine acts offend,
Thy flitting shadow had preferr'd
To thee, here, where unseen, unheard,
I amidst gushing tears expire,
Or live to suffer more and more.
What would'st thou have? I tremble sore.
What dost thou seek? My fears, how dire!
Speak thine intent-My death is near!
Oh, tell me wherefore thou art here!
Eus. Can love be wise or moderate?
My sorrows and thy cruelty
This day must triumph over me.
Patiently I endured my fate
Till thou wast in a cell confined;
But when thy beauties lost I saw,
Unhinder'd by religious awe,

I trampled on the cloister's law:
Nor Heaven, to whom thou'rt now as-
sign'd,

Can justly my pretensions blame.
Long ere the church advanced a claim
In secrecy, my wedded wife

Wast thou, and ne'er might wedded dame
Exchange her state for cloister'd life.

Jul. The love-knot I will ne'er deny, That could in pure felicity Two wills in one unite. Thus bound, my bridegroom's name

had'st thou.

But here have I pronounced the vow,
Whose consecrating might
To a celestial spouse above

Binds hand and faith, and nuptial love. What seek'st thou from Heaven's married bride?

Go, for the world is terrified

By thine outrageous violence,
Whilst men remorselessly thou slayest,
On helpless women's honour preyest.
Go, go! nor hope thine influence
Should gain thy passion's recompense.
Reflect, thy madness to abate,
That I to Heaven am consecrate.

Eus. Resistance only fans my flame.
Already has my guilty foot
Profaned the cloister, and the fruit
Of sacrilege to lose, were shame.
Julia, comply, or I will say,
By thee invited to thy cell,

I there have revell'd many a day.
Dar'st thou a desp'rate wretch defy?
Then all who in the convent dwell
Shall know.

Jul. Eusebio, oh forbear!
Reflect.-Hark! steps are coming nigh,
As to the choir the nuns repair.
What shall I do? Alas! alas!
Needs must my cell thy refuge prove.
Secure the door, whilst they shall pass.
One fear expels another fear.

Eus. How absolutely reigns my love!
Jul. My destiny, oh how severe !

Leaving the lovers in their hidingplace, the scene goes back to the exterior of the convent, where the robbers are expecting their captain's return, and commenting upon his delay. Eusebio and Julia appear upon the convent walls, he flying with every demonstration of terror; she pursuing him with reproaches, for having flown from her in scorn, at an instant when, from the urgency of his entreaties, her arms had been more than half thrown open to his wishes. He answers, that he does not scorn her, that he rather adores her more than ever, but that the cross standing impressed upon her bosom, has filled him with awe; and that should the cross be thus witness to his sins, he never afterwards could implore its succour for very shame. He charges her to remain a pure nun, and in his agitation missing the ladwithout apparent injury-from the der, is precipitated headlong-luckily wall. This accident, however, confusing the robbers, they all hurry off, leaving Julia alone upon the wall, with the ladder placed invitingly at her feet. In a soliloquy, consisting of upwards of an hundred lines, she first' laments Eusebio's desertion, and ceasing to love her. She then considers that his flight cannot lessen her offence, which was complete when she consented to violate her vows; that she consequently cannot be more guil002618

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ty than she is, and may as well follow him. She accordingly descends the ladder, but is no sooner without the boundaries of her convent, than she is seized with remorse, and after a burst of horror, resolves to return, and devote her life to the expiation of her crime. As she is about to re-ascend, she is alarmed by approaching steps, and hides herself until the intruders shall have passed. The intruders, however, prove to be some of the banditti, returning for the forgotten ladder, which they carry off, and Julia, finding no means of re-entering her convent undiscovered, concludes that her repentance is rejected by heaven; she determines, in consequence, by the deeds of a desperate woman, to terrify the world, heaven, and even sin and hell. This resolution ends the second Jornada.

The third Jornada opens in the mountains, whither Gil, being sent by his wife for wood, comes covered with crosses, in the hope that Eusebio's well-known devotion to the Cross may render this species of armour an efficient protection from danger. At Eusebio's approach, however, his terrors as usual overpower him, and he hides himself in a thorn-bush. This asylum he finds so inconvenient, that Eusebio has not long lamented over his hard fortune, in being constrained to resign Julia when in his power, before Gil's restlessness attracts his attention. He exclaims,

A man who bears a cross upon his breast Bound to a tree! Prostrate upon the ground,

Let me fulfil my vow.

Gil. To whom, Eusebio,
Dost thou address thine homage? Or,

what wouldst thou?

If me thou worship, wherefore dost thou
bind me?

Or binding, wherefore worship?
Eus. Who art thou?

Until I reach'd this thorn-bush. So it

was,

Though strange the accident.

Eus. (aside.) Simple he seems,
And may prove useful.-(Aloud.) Gil,
I've liked thee well

Since last we spoke together, we'll be
friends.

Gil. That's kindly said; and since we
are such friends,

I will remain here, where we altogether
May be banditti; 'tis a joyous life,
I'm told, far better than to toil and moil,
From year's end until year's end.

Eus. Thou with me,

According to thy wish, shalt here re

main.

This may suffice as a specimen of the tragical mirth with which Spanish dramatists relieve their murders and miracles. The banditti now enter, leading a man whose face is concealed, and who refuses, they say, to discover himself to any one but the captain. Eusebio declares himself that tremendous personage, and the stranger observes, "We are not alone!" Euse

bio then announces Gil to his people, as a new recruit, orders the proper dress and arms to be given him, and dismisses him with the rest of the troop. When he remains tete-a-tete with the stranger, the latter challenges him to fight, declaring that he came thither expressly to kill him. Eusebio complies reluctantly, saying, he does not like to kill or be killed without knowing why; and the stranger, remarking that he is in the right, for. unless the offender knows it to be the offended who slays him, no satisfaction is obtained by the injured party, discovers his face, and proves to be Julia. Eusebio, shocked at seeing her out of her convent, and in man's attire, inquires how she comes there, so disguised; she answers, that his contempt is the sole cause of her conduct,

Gil. Know you not Gil? Since here and, in order to show him what it is

you left me bound,

And loaded with a message, shouts and cries

Have failed to draw a passenger this

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to teach a woman to overleap the bounds of modesty, she will recount to him the crimes she has already perpetrated, which will delight her as much in the relation as they did in the acting. She then narrates a series of atrocious murders committed, to secure her flight from detection. Eusebio, horror-stricken at her perversion, entreats Julia to return to her convent, assuring her that his reverence for the cross stamped upon her bosom, must still, and for ever, compel him to fly

M

her. They are now interrupted by the banditti, who announce the near approach of Curcio and his former party. Eusebio bids Julia again conceal her face, lest she should fall into her father's hands, and leads his band to combat their assailants-Julia, who shows less taste for fighting than for assassinating, watches the conflict from the stage. She proclaims the flight of the robbers, leaving Eusebio alone among his enemies; and, resolving to rally the fugitives, and to confound all ages by her audacity in her lover's defence, hurries off to effect her purpose.

Gil now makes his appearance in his bandit accoutrements, lamenting that the moment he has entered upon his bandit noviciate to insure his safety, the previously victorious robbers are beaten. The conquering peasants join him, and a laughable contest ensues, in which he endeavours to persuade his former friends that he has been fighting upon their side, and is clad in the spoils of a robber whom he has slain. He accompanies them in the pursuit of the flying outlaws, leaving the stage free for Curcio and Eusebio, who come on fighting. Curcio

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The brightness of a victory is dimmed, With blood when clouded.

(Voices without.) This way they are

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To bear him prisoner; Eusebio, yield; 1 pledge a noble's word for thine assurance;

I'll be thine advocate, although thy foe.
Eus. To thee, as Curcio, I would yield
myself,

But not as to a judge, for that were fear,
The other, reverence.

Oct. Kill Eusebio here!
Cur. Observe--

Oct. Will you defend him? To your
country

Do you turn traitor?

Cur. Traitor! 1? Eusebio,
Forgive me; thus insulted, I must be
The first to strike.

Eus. Do thou not interpose,

Old lord, thy sight o'erawes me, and thy people

Make thee their shield against mine

arm.

(They all go off fighting, except Curcio,

who remains, watching the event.)

He sees Eusebio pierced with a thousand wounds, and driven over the side of the precipice; exclaims that the cold blood calls to his, and hurries away to seek him.

Eusebio next falls down the precipice on to the stage, resting nearly at

the foot of the cross beneath which he was originally found. He repents of his past misdeeds, and calls upon Lisardo and Alberto to fulfil their promises of not suffering him to die without confession. Curcio comes in,expresses grief at Eusebio's situation, -sets about examining his woundsdiscovers the cross upon his breast, exactly similar to Julia's-recognizes him as his lost son, observing that he himself is justly punished in the very same place where he had sinned, by attempting to murder his innocent wife. Eusebio dies, calling vehemently upon Alberto, and Curcio tears his hair in an agony of parental love and sorrow. Octavio now brings him the news of Julia's disappearance from her convent, and is followed by the peasants with intelligence of the return of

the banditti, led on by a man or a demon, who conceals his name and face even from his own partizans. Curcio proclaims the dead Eusebio to have been his son, and desires his body to be removed for interment. The peasants represent that he has died excommunicated, and cannot have Christian burial. Curcio bursts into tears, and leaves them in despair; the peasants bury the corpse upon the spot, apparently under leaves and boughs of trees; depart, leaving Gil to watch, and report the movements of the returning banditti. The poor Gracioso has scarcely time to express his extreme dislike of his situation and company, when Alberto enters again, journeying from Rome. The corpse immediately claims his formerly promised assistance, Alberto, a good deal surprised at the occurrence, seeks till he finds the dead body, which he has no sooner uncovered than it rises up, and accompanies the worthy priest to the foot of the cross, for the purpose of making confession, and receiving absolution.

Julia now appears with the banditti, seeking for the enemy, whom she expects to surprise in the negligence of victory. One of the robbers says, there is no need of seeking further, for the enemy is at hand. Accordingly, Curcio and his party enter, but before a blow is struck, Gil, who is bursting with the wonders he has witnessed, comes forward, and directs the general attention to the prodigy that is even then in progress. All look towards the cross, and mention what they see take place. Curcio finally says

And as the holy father terminates The form of absolution, at his feet The corpse, a second time, falls dead.

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