Scene VII. — A lane in the suburbs.
Night. Enter Cruzado and
Bartolome.
Cruz. And so, Bartolome, the
expedition failed. But where wast thou for the
most part?
Bart. In the Guadarrama mountains,
near San Ildefonso.
Cruz. And thou bringest nothing
back with thee? Didst thou rob no one?
Bart. There was no one to
rob, save a party of students from Segovia, who looked
as if they would rob us; and a jolly little friar,
who had nothing in his pockets but a missal and a loaf
of bread.
Cruz. Pray, then, what brings thee
back to Madrid?
Bart. First tell me what keeps thee
here?
Cruz. Preciosa.
Bart. And she brings me back.
Hast thou forgotten thy promise?
Cruz. The two years are not
passed yet. Wait patiently. The girl shall
be thine.
Bart. I hear she has a Busne lover.
Cruz. That is nothing.
Bart. I do not like it.
I hate him,—the son of a Busne harlot.
He goes in and out, and speaks with her alone, and
I must stand aside, and wait his pleasure.
Cruz. Be patient, I say.
Thou shalt have thy revenge. When the time
comes, thou shalt waylay him.
Bart. Meanwhile, show me her house.
Cruz. Come this way.
But thou wilt not find her. She dances at the
play to-night.
Bart. No matter. Show me the
house.
[Exeunt.