Prec.  Senor Hypolito!  I kiss your hand. 
Pray, shall I tell your fortune?

Hyp.  Not to-night;
For, should you treat me as you did Victorian,
And send me back to marry maids forlorn,
My wedding day would last from now till Christmas.

Chispa (within).  What ho! the Gypsies, ho!  Beltran Cruzado! 
Halloo! halloo! halloo! halloo!

(Enters booted, with a whip and lantern.

Vict.  What now
Why such a fearful din?  Hast thou been robbed?

Chispa.  Ay, robbed and murdered; and good evening to you,
My worthy masters.

  Vict.  Speak; what brings thee here?

Chispa (to Preciosa). 
Good news from Court; good news!  Beltran Cruzado,
The Count of the Cales, is not your father,
But your true father has returned to Spain
Laden with wealth.  You are no more a Gypsy.

Vict.  Strange as a Moorish tale!

Chispa.  And we have all
Been drinking at the tavern to your health,
As wells drink in November, when it rains.

Vict.  Where is the gentlemen?

Chispa.  As the old song says,
His body is in Segovia,
His soul is in Madrid,

Prec.  Is this a dream?  O, if it be a dream,
Let me sleep on, and do not wake me yet! 
Repeat thy story!  Say I’m not deceived! 
Say that I do not dream!  I am awake;
This is the Gypsy camp; this is Victorian,
And this his friend, Hypolito!  Speak! speak! 
Let me not wake and find it all a dream!

Vict.  It is a dream, sweet child! a waking dream,
A blissful certainty, a vision bright
Of that rare happiness, which even on earth
Heaven gives to those it loves.  Now art thou rich,
As thou wast ever beautiful and good;
And I am now the beggar.

Prec. (giving him her hand).  I have still
A hand to give.

Chispa (aside).  And I have two to take. 
I’ve heard my grandmother say, that Heaven gives almonds
To those who have no teeth.  That’s nuts to crack,
I’ve teeth to spare, but where shall I find almonds?

  Vict.  What more of this strange story?

Chispa.  Nothing more. 
Your friend, Don Carlos, is now at the village
Showing to Pedro Crespo, the Alcalde,
The proofs of what I tell you.  The old hag,
Who stole you in your childhood, has confessed;
And probably they’ll hang her for the crime,
To make the celebration more complete.

Vict.  No; let it be a day of general joy;
Fortune comes well to all, that comes not late. 
Now let us join Don Carlos.

Hyp.  So farewell,
The student’s wandering life!  Sweet serenades,
Sung under ladies’ windows in the night,
And all that makes vacation beautiful! 
To you, ye cloistered shades of Alcala,
To you, ye radiant visions of romance,
Written in books, but here surpassed by truth,
The Bachelor Hypolito returns,
And leaves the Gypsy with the Spanish Student.