Vict.  That was the first sound in the song of love! 
Scarce more than silence is, and yet a sound. 
Hands of invisible spirits touch the strings
Of that mysterious instrument, the soul,
And play the prelude of our fate.  We hear
The voice prophetic, and are not alone.

  Prec.  That is my faith.  Dust thou believe these warnings?

Vict.  So far as this.  Our feelings and our thoughts
Tend ever on, and rest not in the Present. 
As drops of rain fall into some dark well,
And from below comes a scarce audible sound,
So fall our thoughts into the dark Hereafter,
And their mysterious echo reaches us.

Prec.  I have felt it so, but found no words to say it! 
I cannot reason; I can only feel! 
But thou hast language for all thoughts and feelings. 
Thou art a scholar; and sometimes I think
We cannot walk together in this world! 
The distance that divides us is too great! 
Henceforth thy pathway lies among the stars;
I must not hold thee back.

Vict.  Thou little sceptic! 
Dost thou still doubt?  What I most prize in woman
Is her affections, not her intellect! 
The intellect is finite; but the affections
Are infinite, and cannot be exhausted. 
Compare me with the great men of the earth;
What am I?  Why, a pygmy among giants! 
But if thou lovest,—­mark me!  I say lovest,
The greatest of thy sex excels thee not! 
The world of the affections is thy world,
Not that of man’s ambition.  In that stillness
Which most becomes a woman, calm and holy,
Thou sittest by the fireside of the heart,
Feeding its flame.  The element of fire
Is pure.  It cannot change nor hide its nature,
But burns as brightly in a Gypsy camp
As in a palace hall.  Art thou convinced?

Prec.  Yes, that I love thee, as the good love heaven;
But not that I am worthy of that heaven. 
How shall I more deserve it?

  Vict.  Loving more.

  Prec.  I cannot love thee more; my heart is full.

Vict.  Then let it overflow, and I will drink it,
As in the summer-time the thirsty sands
Drink the swift waters of the Manzanares,
And still do thirst for more.

A Watchman (in the street).  Ave Maria
Purissima!  ’T is midnight and serene!

  Vict.  Hear’st thou that cry?

Prec.  It is a hateful sound,
To scare thee from me!

Vict.  As the hunter’s horn
Doth scare the timid stag, or bark of hounds
The moor-fowl from his mate.

  Prec.  Pray, do not go!

Vict.  I must away to Alcala to-night. 
Think of me when I am away.

Prec.  Fear not! 
I have no thoughts that do not think of thee.

Vict. (giving her a ring). 
And to remind thee of my love, take this;
A serpent, emblem of Eternity;
A ruby,—­say, a drop of my heart’s blood.