Act the Third.
Scene I.—Don Rodrigo and Elvira.
Elvira. Rodrigo, what hast them done? Whence comest thou, unhappy man?
Don Rodrigo. Here [i.e. to the house of Chimène], to follow out the sad course of my miserable destiny.
Elvira. Whence obtainest thou this audacity, and this new pride, of appearing in places which thou hast filled with mourning? What! dost thou come even here to defy the shade of the Count? Hast thou not slain him?
Don Rodrigo. His existence was my shame; my honor required this deed from my [reluctant] hand.
Elvira. But to seek thy asylum in the house of the dead! Has ever a murderer made such his refuge?
Don Rodrigo. And I come here only to yield myself to my judge. Look no more on me with astonishment [lit. an eye amazed]; I seek death after having inflicted it. My love is my judge; my judge is my Chimène. I deserve death for deserving her hatred, and I am come to receive, as a supreme blessing, its decree from her lips, and its stroke from her hand.
Elvira. Fly rather from her sight, fly from her impetuosity; conceal your presence from her first excitement. Go! do not expose yourself to the first impulses which the fiery indignation of her resentment may give vent to.
Don Rodrigo. No, no. This beloved one, whom I [could] so displease, cannot have too wrathful a desire for my punishment; and I avoid a hundred deaths which are going to crush me if, by dying sooner, I can redouble it [i.e. that wrath].
Elvira. Chimène is at the palace, bathed in tears, and will return but too well accompanied. Rodrigo, fly! for mercy's sake relieve me from my uneasiness! What might not people say if they saw you here? Do you wish that some slanderer, to crown her misery, should accuse her of tolerating here the slayer of her father? She will return; she is coming—I see her; at least, for the sake of her honor, Rodrigo, conceal thyself! [Rodrigo conceals himself.]
Scene II.—Don Sancho, Chimène, and Elvira.
Don Sancho. Yes, lady, you require a victim [or revenge] steeped in blood [lit. for you there is need of bleeding victims]; your wrath is just and your tears legitimate, and I do not attempt, by dint of speaking, either to soothe you or to console you. But, if I may be capable of serving you, employ my sword to punish the guilty [one], employ my love to revenge this death; under your commands my arm will be [only] too strong.
Chimène. Unhappy that I am!
Don Sancho. I implore you, accept my services.
Chimène. I should offend the King, who has promised me justice.
Don Sancho. You know that justice [lit. it] proceeds with such slowness, that very often crime escapes in consequence of its delay, its slow and doubtful course causes us to lose too many tears. Permit that a cavalier may avenge you by [force of] arms; that method is more certain and more prompt in punishing.
Chimène. It is the last remedy; and if it is necessary to have recourse to it, and your pity for my misfortunes still continues, you shall then be free to avenge my injury.
Don Sancho. It is the sole happiness to which my soul aspires; and, being able to hope for it, I depart too well contented.
Scene III.—Chimène and Elvira.
Chimène. At last I see myself free, and I can, without constraint, show thee the extent of my keen sorrows; I can give vent to my sad sighs; I can unbosom to thee my soul and all my griefs. My father is dead, Elvira; and the first sword with which Rodrigo armed himself has cut his thread of life. Weep, weep, mine eyes, and dissolve yourselves into tears! The one half of my life [i.e. Rodrigo] has laid the other [half, i.e. my father] in the grave, and compels me to revenge, after this fatal blow, that which I have no more [i.e. my father] on that which still remains to me [i.e. Rodrigo].
Elvira. Calm yourself, dear lady.
Chimène. Ah! how unsuitably, in a misfortune so great, thou speakest of calmness. By what means can my sorrow ever be appeased, if I cannot hate the hand which has caused it? And what ought I to hope for but a never-ending anguish if I follow up a crime, still loving the criminal.
Elvira. He deprives you of a father, and you still love him?
Chimène. It is too little to say love, Elvira; I adore him! My passion opposes itself to my resentment; in mine enemy I find my lover, and I feel that in spite of all my rage Rodrigo is still contending against my sire in my heart. He attacks it, he besieges it; it yields, it defends itself; at one time strong, at one time weak, at another triumphant. But in this severe struggle between wrath and love, he rends my heart without shaking my resolution, and although my love may have power over me, I do not consult it [or, hesitate] to follow my duty. I speed on [lit. run] without halting [or, weighing the consequences] where my honor compels me. Rodrigo is very dear to me; the interest I feel in him grieves me; my heart takes his part, but, in spite of its struggles, I know what I am [i.e. a daughter], and that my father is dead.
Elvira. Do you think of pursuing [or, persecuting] him?
Chimène. Ah! cruel thought! and cruel pursuit to which I see myself compelled. I demand his head [or, life] and I dread to obtain it; my death will follow his, and [yet] I wish to punish him!
Elvira. Abandon, abandon, dear lady, a design so tragic, and do not impose on yourself such a tyrannical law.
Chimène. What! my father being dead and almost in my arms—shall his blood cry for revenge and I not obtain it? My heart, shamefully led away by other spells, would believe that it owed him only ineffectual tears. And can I endure that an insidious love, beneath a dastardly apathy, should extinguish my resolution [lit. beneath a cowardly silence extinguish my honor]?
Elvira. Dear lady, believe me, you would be excusable in having less wrath against an object so beloved, against a lover so dear; you have done enough, you have seen the King; do not urge on the result [of that interview]. Do not persist in this morbid [lit. strange] humor.
Chimène. My honor is at stake; I must avenge myself; and, however the desires of love may beguile us, all excuse [for not doing one's duty] is disgraceful to [i.e. in the estimation of] noble-minded souls.
Elvira. But you love Rodrigo—he cannot offend you.
Chimène. I confess it.
Elvira. After all, what then do you intend to do?
Chimène. To preserve my honor and to end my sorrow; to pursue him, to destroy him, and to die after him.
Scene IV.—Don Rodrigo, Chimène, and Elvira.
Don Rodrigo. Well then, without giving you the trouble of pursuing me, secure for yourself the honor of preventing me from living.
Chimène. Elvira, where are we, and what do I see? Rodrigo in my house! Rodrigo before me!
Don Rodrigo. Spare not my blood; enjoy [lit. taste], without resistance, the pleasure of my destruction and of your vengeance.
Chimène. Alas!
Don Rodrigo. Listen to me.
Chimène. I am dying.
Don Rodrigo. One moment.
Chimène. Go, let me die!
Don Rodrigo. Four words only; afterwards reply to me only with this sword!
Chimène. What! still imbrued with the blood of my father!
Don Rodrigo. My Chimène.
Chimène. Remove from my sight this hateful object, which brings as a reproach before mine eyes thy crime and thy existence.
Don Rodrigo. Look on it rather to excite thy hatred, to increase thy wrath and to hasten my doom.
Chimène. It is dyed with my [father's] blood!
Don Rodrigo. Plunge it in mine, and cause it thus to lose the death-stain of thine own.
Chimène. Ah! what cruelty, which all in one day slays the father by the sword [itself], and the daughter by the sight of it! Remove this object, I cannot endure it; thou wished me to listen to thee, and thou causest me to die!
Don Rodrigo. I do what thou wishest, but without abandoning the desire of ending by thy hands my lamentable life; for, in fine, do not expect [even] from my affection a dastardly repentance of a justifiable [lit. good] action. The irreparable effect of a too hasty excitement dishonored my father and covered me with shame. Thou knowest how a blow affects a man of courage. I shared in the insult, I sought out its author, I saw him, I avenged my honor and my father; I would do it again if I had it to do. Not that, indeed, my passion did not long struggle for thee against my father and myself; judge of its power—under such an insult, I was able to deliberate whether I should take vengeance for it! Compelled to displease thee or to endure an affront, I thought that in its turn my arm was too prompt [to strike]; I accused myself of too much impetuosity, and thy loveliness, without doubt, would have turned the scale [or, prevailed overall] had I not opposed to thy strongest attractions the [thought] that a man without honor would not merit thee; that, in spite of this share which I had in thy affections, she who loved me noble would hate me shamed; that to listen to thy love, to obey its voice, would be to render myself unworthy of it and to condemn thy choice. I tell thee still, and although I sigh at it, even to my last sigh I will assuredly repeat it, I have committed an offence against thee, and I was driven to [or, bound to commit] it to efface my shame and to merit thee; but discharged [from my duty] as regards honor, and discharged [from duty] towards my father, it is now to thee that I come to give satisfaction—it is to offer to thee my blood that thou seest me in this place. I did my duty [lit. that which I ought to have done] then, I still do it now. I know that a slain [lit. dead] father arms thee against my offence; I have not wished to rob thee of thy victim; sacrifice with courage to the blood he has lost he who constitutes his glory in having shed it.
Chimène. Ah, Rodrigo, it is true, although thine enemy, I cannot blame thee for having shunned disgrace; and in whatever manner my griefs burst forth I do not accuse [thee], I [only] lament my misfortunes. I know what honor after such an insult demanded with ardor of a generous courage; thou hast only done the duty of a man of honor, but also in doing that [duty] thou hast taught me mine. Thy fatal valor has instructed me by thy victory—it has avenged thy father and maintained thy glory. The same care concerns me, and I have to add to my infliction [lit. to afflict me] my fame to sustain and my father to avenge. Alas! thy fate [or, your share] in this drives me to despair! If any other misfortune had taken from me my father, my soul would have found in the happiness of seeing thee the only relief which it could have received, and in opposition to my grief I should have felt a fond delight [lit. charm or a magic soothing] when a hand so dear would have wiped away my tears. But I must lose thee after having lost him. This struggle over my passion is due to my honor, and this terrible duty, whose [imperious] command is slaying me, compels me to exert myself [lit. labor or work] for thy destruction. For, in fine, do not expect from my affection any morbid [lit. cowardly] feelings as to thy punishment. However strongly my love may plead in thy favor, my steadfast courage must respond to thine. Even in offending me, thou hast proved thyself worthy of me; I must, by thy death, prove myself worthy of thee.
Don Rodrigo. Defer, then, no longer that which honor commands. It demands my head [or, life], and I yield it to thee; make a sacrifice of it to this noble duty; the [death] stroke will be welcome [lit. sweet], as well as the doom. To await, after my crime, a tardy justice, is to defer thine honor as well as my punishment. I should die too happy in dying by so delightful a [death] blow!
Chimène. Go [i.e. no]; I am thy prosecutor, and not thy executioner. If thou offerest me thine head, is it for me to take it; I ought to attack it, but thou oughtest to defend it. It is from another than thee that I must obtain it, and it is my duty [lit. I ought] to pursue thee, but not to punish thee.
Don Rodrigo. However in my favor our love may plead, thy steadfast courage ought to correspond to mine; and to borrow other arms to avenge a father is, believe me, my Chimène, not the [method of] responding to it. My hand alone was fit [lit. has understood how] to avenge the insult offered to my father; thy hand alone ought to take vengeance for thine.
Chimène. O cruel! for what reason shouldst thou persevere on this point? Thou hast avenged thyself without aid, and dost thou wish to give me thine [aid]? I shall follow thy example; and I have too much courage to endure that my glory shall be divided with thee. My father and mine honor shall owe nothing to the dictates of thy love and of thy despair.
Don Rodrigo. O cruel resolution [lit. point of honor]! Alas! whatever I may do, can I by no means obtain this concession [or, favor]? In the name of a slain [lit. dead] father, or of our friendship, punish me through revenge, or at least through compassion. Thy unhappy lover will have far less pain in dying by thy hand than in living with thy hatred.
Chimène. Go; I do not hate thee.
Don Rodrigo. Thou oughtest to do so.
Chimène. I cannot.
Don Rodrigo. Dost thou so little fear calumny, and so little [fear] false reports? When people shall know my crime, and that thy passion [for me] still continues, what will not envy and deception spread abroad? Compel them to silence, and, without debating more, save thy fair fame by causing me to die.
Chimène. That [fair fame] shines far more gloriously [lit. better] by leaving thee life; and I wish that the voice of the blackest slander should raise to heaven my honor, and lament my griefs, knowing that I worship thee, and that [still] I pursue thee [as a criminal]. Go, then; present no more to my unbounded grief that which I [must] lose, although I love it [him]! In the shades of night carefully conceal thy departure; if they see thee going forth, my honor runs a risk. The only opportunity which slander can have is to know that I have tolerated thy presence here. Give it no opportunity to assail my honor.
Don Rodrigo. Let me die.
Chimène. Nay, leave me.
Don Rodrigo. On what art thou resolved?
Chimène. In spite of the glorious love-fires which impede [lit. trouble] my wrath, I will do my utmost to avenge my father; but, in spite of the sternness of such a cruel duty, my sole desire is to be able to accomplish nothing [against thee].
Don Rodrigo. O wondrous love [lit. miracle of love]!
Chimène. O accumulation of sorrows!
Don Rodrigo. What misfortunes and tears will our fathers cost us!
Chimène. Rodrigo, who would have believed——?
Don Rodrigo. Chimène, who would have said——?
Chimène. That our happiness was so near, and would so soon be ruined?
Don Rodrigo. And that so near the haven, contrary to all appearances [or, expectation], a storm so sudden should shatter our hopes?
Chimène. O deadly griefs!
Don Rodrigo. O vain regrets!
Chimène. Go, then, again [I beseech thee]; I can listen to thee no more.
Don Rodrigo. Adieu! I go to drag along a lingering life, until it be torn from me by thy pursuit.
Chimène. If I obtain my purpose, I pledge to thee my faith to exist not a moment after thee. Adieu! Go hence, and, above all, take good care that you are not observed. [Exit Don Rodrigo.]
Elvira. Dear lady, whatever sorrows heaven sends us——
Chimène. Trouble me no more; let me sigh. I seek for silence and the night in order to weep.
Scene V.—Don Diego.
Never do we experience [lit. taste] perfect joy. Our most fortunate successes are mingled with sadness; always some cares, [even] in the [successful] events, mar the serenity of our satisfaction. In the midst of happiness my soul feels their pang: I float in joy, and I tremble with fear. I have seen [lying] dead the enemy who had insulted me, yet I am unable to find [lit. see] the hand which has avenged me. I exert myself in vain, and with a useless anxiety. Feeble [lit. broken down; or, shattered] though I am, I traverse all the city; this slight degree of vigor, that my advanced years have left me, expends itself fruitlessly in seeking this conqueror. At every moment, at all places, in a night so dark, I think that I embrace him, and I embrace only a shadow; and my love, beguiled by this deceitful object, forms for itself suspicions which redouble my fear. I do not discover any traces of his flight. I fear the dead Count's friends and retinue; their number terrifies me, and confounds my reason. Rodrigo lives no more, or breathes in prison! Just heavens! do I still deceive myself with a shadow only [lit. an appearance], or do I see, at last, my only hope? It is he; I doubt it no more. My prayers are heard, my fear is dispelled, and my trouble ended.
Scene VI.—Don Diego and Don Rodrigo.
Don Diego. Rodrigo at last heaven permits that I should behold thee!
Don Rodrigo. Alas!
Don Diego. Mingle not sighs with my joy; let me take breath in order to praise thee. My valor has no reason to disown thee; thou hast well imitated it, and thy brilliant prowess causes the heroes of my race to live again in thee! It is from them that thou descendest, it is from me that thou art sprung. Thy first combat [lit. sword-stroke] equals all of mine, and thy youth, fired with a splendid enthusiasm, by this great proof equals [or, reaches to] my renown. Prop of mine age, and sum of my happiness, touch these white hairs, to which thou restorest honor! Come, kiss this cheek, and recognize the place on which was branded the insult which thy courage effaces!
Don Rodrigo. The honor of it belongs to you. I could not do less, being sprung from you, and trained under your careful instruction [lit. cares]. I consider myself too happy [at the result], and my soul is delighted that my first combat [or, maiden-stroke] pleases him to whom I owe existence. But, amidst your gladness, be not jealous if, in my turn, I dare to satisfy myself after you. Permit that in freedom my despair may burst forth; enough and for too long your discourse has soothed it. I do not repent having served you; but give me back the blessing which that [death] blow has deprived me of. My arms, in order to serve you, battling against my passion, by this [otherwise] glorious deed have deprived me of my love. Say no more to me: for you I have lost all; what I owed you I have well repaid.
Don Diego. Carry, carry still higher the effect [lit. fruit] of thy victory. I have given thee life, and thou restorest to me my honor; and as much as honor is dearer to me than life, so much now I owe thee in return. But spurn this weakness from a noble heart; we have but one honor—there are many mistresses. Love is but a pleasure; honor is a duty.
Don Rodrigo. Ah! what do you say to me?
Don Diego. That which you ought to know.
Don Rodrigo. My outraged honor takes vengeance on myself, and you dare to urge me to the shame of inconstancy! Disgrace is the same, and follows equally the soldier without courage and the faithless lover. Do no wrong, then, to my fidelity; allow me [to be] brave without rendering myself perfidious [perjured]. My bonds are too strong to be thus broken—my faith still binds me, though I [may] hope no more; and, not being able to leave nor to win Chimène, the death which I seek is my most welcome [lit. sweeter] penalty.
Don Diego. It is not yet time to seek death; thy prince and thy country have need of thine arm. The fleet, as was feared, having entered this great river, hopes to surprise the city and to ravage the country. The Moors are going to make a descent, and the tide and the night may, within an hour, bring them noiselessly to our walls. The court is in disorder, the people in dismay; we hear only cries, we see only tears. In this public calamity, my good fortune has so willed it that I have found [thronging] to my house five hundred of my friends, who, knowing the insult offered to me, impelled by a similar zeal, came all to offer themselves to avenge my quarrel. Thou hast anticipated them; but their valiant hands will be more nobly steeped in the blood of Africans. Go, march at their head where honor calls thee; it is thou whom their noble band would have as a leader. Go, resist the advance of these ancient enemies; there, if thou wishest to die, find a glorious death. Seize the opportunity, since it is presented to thee; cause your King to owe his safety to your loss; but rather return from that battle-field [lit. from it] with the laurels on thy brow. Limit not thy glory to the avenging of an insult; advance that glory still further; urge by thy valor this monarch to pardon, and Chimène to peace. If thou lovest her, learn that to return as a conqueror is the sole means of regaining her heart. But time is too precious to waste in words; I stop thee in thine attempted answer, and desire that thou fly [to the rescue]. Come, follow me; go to the combat, and show the King that what he loses in the Count he regains in thee.
Act the Fourth.
Scene I.—Chimène and Elvira.
Chimène. Is it not a false report? Do you know for certain, Elvira?
Elvira. You could never believe how every one admires him, and extols to heaven, with one common voice, the glorious achievements of this young hero. The Moors appeared before him only to their shame; their approach was very rapid, their flight more rapid still. A three hours' battle left to our warriors a complete victory, and two kings as prisoners. The valor of their leader overcame every obstacle [lit. found no obstacles].
Chimène. And the hand of Rodrigo has wrought all these wonders!
Elvira. Of his gallant deeds these two kings are the reward; by his hand they were conquered, and his hand captured them.
Chimène. From whom couldst thou ascertain these strange tidings?
Elvira. From the people, who everywhere sing his praises, [who] call him the object and the author of their rejoicing, their guardian angel and their deliverer.
Chimène. And the King—with what an aspect does he look upon such valor?
Elvira. Rodrigo dares not yet appear in his presence, but Don Diego, delighted, presents to him in chains, in the name of this conqueror, these crowned captives, and asks as a favor from this generous prince that he condescend to look upon the hand which has saved the kingdom [lit. province].
Chimène. But is he not wounded?
Elvira. I have learned nothing of it. You change color! Recover your spirits.
Chimène. Let me recover then also my enfeebled resentment; caring for him, must I forget my own feelings [lit. myself]? They boast of him, they praise him, and my heart consents to it; my honor is mute, my duty impotent. Down [lit. silence], O [treacherous] love! let my resentment exert itself [lit. act]; although he has conquered two kings, he has slain my father! These mourning robes in which I read my misfortune are the first-fruits which his valor has produced; and although others may tell of a heart so magnanimous, here all objects speak to me of his crime. Ye who give strength to my feelings of resentment, veil, crape, robes, dismal ornaments, funeral garb in which his first victory enshrouds me, do you sustain effectually my honor in opposition to my passion, and when my love shall gain too much power, remind my spirit of my sad duty; attack, without fearing anything, a triumphant hand!
Elvira. Calm this excitement; see—here comes the Infanta.
Scene II.—The Infanta, Chimène, Leonora, and Elvira.
Infanta. I do not come here [vainly] to console thy sorrows; I come rather to mingle my sighs with thy tears.
Chimène. Far rather take part in the universal rejoicings, and taste the happiness which heaven sends you, dear lady; no one but myself has a right to sigh. The danger from which Rodrigo has been able to rescue you, and the public safety which his arms restore to you, to me alone to-day still permit tears; he has saved the city, he has served his King, and his valiant arm is destructive only to myself.
Infanta. My Chimène, it is true that he has wrought wonders.
Chimène. Already this vexatious exclamation of joy [lit. noise] has reached [lit. struck] my ears, and I hear him everywhere proclaimed aloud as brave a warrior as he is an unfortunate lover.
Infanta. What annoyance can the approving shouts of the people cause thee? This youthful Mars whom they praise has hitherto been able to please thee; he possessed thy heart; he lived under thy law; and to praise his valor is to honor thy choice.
Chimène. Every one [else] can praise it with some justice; but for me his praise is a new punishment. They aggravate my grief by raising him so high. I see what I lose, when I see what he is worth. Ah! cruel tortures to the mind of a lover! The more I understand his worth, the more my passion increases; yet my duty is always the stronger [passion], and, in spite of my love, endeavors to accomplish his destruction [lit. to pursue his death].
Infanta. Yesterday, this duty placed thee in high estimation; the struggle which thou didst make appeared so magnanimous, so worthy of a noble heart, that everyone at the court admired thy resolution and pitied thy love. But wilt thou believe in the advice of a faithful friendship?
Chimène. Not to obey you would render me disloyal.
Infanta. What was justifiable then is not so to-day. Rodrigo now is our sole support, the hope and the idol [lit. love] of a people that worships him! The prop of Castile and the terror of the Moor! The King himself recognizes [lit. is in agreement with] this truth, that thy father in him alone sees himself recalled to life: and if, in fine, thou wishest that I should explain myself briefly [lit. in two words], thou art seeking in his destruction the public ruin. What! to avenge a father, is it ever lawful to surrender one's country into the hands of enemies? Against us is thy revenge lawful? And must we be punished who had no share in the crime? After all, it is only that thou shouldest espouse the man whom a dead father compelled thee to accuse; I myself would wish to relieve thee of that desire [lit. take the desire of that from thee]; take from him thy love, but leave us his life.
Chimène. Ah! it is not in me to have so much kindness; the duty which excites me has no limit. Although my love pleads [lit. interests itself] for this conqueror, although a nation worships him, and a King praises him, although he be surrounded with the most valiant warriors, I shall endeavor to crush his laurels beneath my [funereal] cypress.
Infanta. It is a noble feeling when, to avenge a father, our duty assails a head so dear; but it is duty of a still nobler order when ties of blood are sacrificed to the public [advantage]. No, believe me, it is enough to quench thy love; he will be too severely punished if he exists no more in thy affections. Let the welfare of thy country impose upon thee this law; and, besides, what dost thou think that the King will grant thee?
Chimène. He can refuse me, but I cannot keep silent.
Infanta. Reflect well, my [dear] Chimène, on what thou wishest to do. Adieu; [when] alone thou cans't think over this at thy leisure. [Exit the Infanta.]
Chimène. Since my father is slain [lit. after my dead father], I have no [alternative] to choose.
Scene III.—Don Fernando (the King), Don Diego, Don Arias, Don Rodrigo, and Don Sancho.
Don Fernando. Worthy scion of a distinguished race, which has always been the glory and the support of Castile! Thou descendant of so many ancestors signalized by valor, whom the first attempt of thine own [prowess] has so soon equalled; my ability to recompense thee is too limited [lit. small], and I have less power than thou hast merit. The country delivered from such a fierce enemy, my sceptre firmly placed in my hand by thine own [hand], and the Moors defeated before, amid these terrors, I could give orders for repulsing their arms; these are brilliant services which leave not to thy King the means or the hope of discharging his debt of gratitude [lit. acquitting himself] towards thee. But the two kings, thy captives, shall be thy reward. Both of them in my presence have named thee their Cid—since Cid, in their language, is equivalent to lord, I shall not envy thee this glorious title of distinction; be thou, henceforth, the Cid; to that great name let everything yield; let it overwhelm with terror both Granada and Toledo, and let it indicate to all those who live under my laws both how valuable thou art to me [lit. that which thou art worth to me], and that [deep obligation] which I owe thee.
Don Rodrigo. Let your majesty, sire, spare my modesty. On such an humble service your majesty [lit. it, referring to majesty] sets too high a value, and compels me to blush [for shame] before so great a King, at so little deserving the honor which I have received from him. I know too well [the gifts] that I owe to the welfare of your empire, both the blood which flows in my veins [lit. animates me] and the air which I breathe, and even though I should lose them in such a glorious cause [lit. for an object so worthy], I should only be doing the duty of a subject.
Don Fernando. All those whom that duty enlists in my service do not discharge it with the same courage, and when [i.e. unless] valor attains a high degree, it never produces such rare successes; allow us then to praise thee, and tell me more at length the true history of this victory.
Don Rodrigo. Sire, you are aware that in this urgent danger, which created in the city such a powerful alarm, a band of friends assembled at the house of my father prevailed on my spirit, still much agitated. But, sire, pardon my rashness if I dared to employ it without your authority; the danger was approaching; their [valiant] band was ready; by showing myself at the court I should have risked my life [lit. head], and, if I must lose it, it would have been far more delightful for me to depart from life while fighting for you.
Don Fernando. I pardon thy warmth in avenging the insult offered to thee, and the kingdom shielded [from danger] pleads [lit. speaks to me] in thy defence. Be assured that henceforth Chimène will speak in vain, and I shall listen to her no more except to comfort her; but continue.
Don Rodrigo. Under me, then, this band advances, and bears in its aspect a manly confidence. At setting out we were five hundred, but, by a speedy reinforcement, we saw ourselves [augmented to] three thousand on arriving at the port; so surely, on beholding us advance with such a [determined] aspect, did the most dismayed recover their courage. Of that brave host [lit. of it], as soon as we had arrived, I conceal two-thirds in the holds of the ships which were found there; the rest, whose numbers were increasing every hour, burning with impatience, remain around me; they lie down on the ground, and, without making any noise, they pass a considerable portion of so auspicious [lit. beautiful] a night. By my command the guard does the same, and keeping themselves, concealed aid my stratagem, and I boldly pretended to have received from you the order which they see me follow out, and which I issue to all. This dim light which falls from the stars, at last with the tide causes us to see thirty vessels [lit. sails]; the wave [i.e. the water] swells beneath them, and, with a mutual effort, the Moors and the sea advance even to the port. We let them pass; all seems to them lulled in repose [lit. tranquil]. No soldiers at the port, none on the walls of the city. Our deep silence deceiving their minds, they no longer dare to doubt that they had taken us by surprise. They land without fear, they cast anchor, they disembark and rush forward to deliver themselves into the hands which are awaiting them. Then we arise, and all at the same time utter towards heaven countless ringing cheers [of defiance]. At these shouts our men from our ships answer [to the signal]; they appear armed, the Moors are dismayed, terror seizes those who had scarcely disembarked, before fighting they consider themselves lost—they hastened to plunder and they meet with war. We press them hard on the water, we press them hard on the land, and we cause rivulets of their blood to run before any [of them] can resist or regain his position. But soon, in spite of us, their princes rally them, their courage revives, and their fears are forgotten. The disgrace of dying without having fought rallies their disordered ranks [lit. stops their disorder], and restores to them their valor. With firmly planted feet they draw their scimitars against us, and cause a fearful intermingling of our blood with theirs; and the land, and the wave, and the fleet, and the port are fields of carnage where death is triumphant. Oh! how many noble deeds, how many brilliant achievements, were performed unnoticed [lit. have remained without renown] in the midst of the gloom, in which each [warrior], sole witness of the brilliant strokes which he gave, could not discern to which side fortune inclined. I went in all directions to encourage our soldiers, to cause some to advance, and to support others, to marshal those who were coming up, to urge them forward in their turn, and I could not ascertain the result [of the conflict] until the break of day. But at last the bright dawn shows us our advantage. The Moor sees his loss and loses courage suddenly, and, seeing a reinforcement which had come to assist us, the ardor for conquest yields to the dread of death. They gain their ships, they cut their cables, they utter even to heaven terrific cries, they make their retreat in confusion and without reflecting whether their kings can escape with them. Their fright is too strong to admit of this duty. The incoming tide brought them here, the outgoing tide carries them away. Meanwhile their kings, combating amongst us, and a few of their [warriors] severely wounded by our blows, still fight valiantly and sell 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, Chimène 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. Chimène 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, Chimène, and Elvira.
Don Fernando. At last, be content, Chimène, 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.
Chimène. 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.
Chimène. 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? Chimène, thy grief appeared too clearly visible.
Chimène. 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 memory blighted. To die for one's country is not a sorrowful doom; it is to immortalize one's self by a glorious death! I love then his victory, and I can do so without criminality; it [the victory] secures the kingdom and yields to me my victim. But ennobled, but illustrious amongst all warriors, the chief crowned with laurels instead of flowers—and to say in a word what I think—worthy of being sacrificed to the shade of my father. Alas! by what [vain] hope do I allow myself to be carried away? Rodrigo has nothing to dread from me; what can tears which are despised avail against him? For him your whole empire is a sanctuary [lit. a place of freedom]; there, under your power, everything is lawful for him; he triumphs over me as [well as] over his enemies; justice stifled in their blood that has been shed, serves as a new trophy for the crime of the conqueror. We increase its pomp, and contempt of the law causes us to follow his [triumphal] chariot between two kings.
Don Fernando. My daughter, these transports are too violent [lit. have too much violence]. When justice is rendered, all is put in the scale. Thy father has been slain, he was the aggressor; and justice itself commands me [to have] mercy. Before accusing that [degree of clemency] which I show, consult well thine heart; Rodrigo is master of it; and thy love in secret returns thanks to thy King, whose favor preserves such a lover for thee.
Chimène. For me! my enemy! the object of my wrath! the author of my misfortunes? the slayer of my father! To my just pursuit [of vengeance] they pay so little attention, that they believe that they are conferring a favor on me by not listening to it. Since you refuse justice to my tears, sire, permit me to have recourse to arms; it is by that alone that he has been able to injure me, and it is by that (means) also that I ought to avenge myself. From all your knights I demand his head; yes, let one of them bring it to me, and I will be his prize; let them fight him, sire, and, the combat being finished, I [will] espouse the conqueror, if Rodrigo is slain [lit. punished]. Under your authority, permit this to be made public.
Don Fernando. This ancient custom established in these places, under the guise of punishing an unjust affront, weakens a kingdom [by depriving it] of its best warriors; the deplorable success of this abuse [of power] often crushes the innocent and shields the guilty. From this [ordeal] I release Rodrigo; he is too precious to me to expose him to the [death] blows of capricious fate; and whatever (offence) a heart so magnanimous could commit, the Moors, in retreating, have carried away his crime.
Chimène. What, sire, for him alone you reverse the laws, which all the court has so often seen observed! What will your people think, and what will envy say, if he screens his life beneath your shield and he makes it a pretext not to appear [on a scene] where all men of honor seek a noble death? Such favors would too deeply tarnish his glory; let him enjoy [lit. taste] without shame [lit. blushing] the fruits of his victory. The count had audacity, he was able to punish him for it; he [i.e. Rodrigo] acted like a man of courage, and ought to maintain it [that character].
Don Fernando. Since you wish it, I grant that he shall do so; but a thousand others would take the place of a vanquished warrior, and the reward which Chimène has promised to the conqueror would render all my cavaliers his enemies; to oppose him alone to all would be too great an injustice; it is enough, he shall enter the lists once only. Choose who [what champion] you will, Chimène, and choose well; but after this combat ask nothing more.
Don Diego. Release not by that those whom his valor [lit. arm] terrifies; leave an open field which none will [dare to] enter. After what Rodrigo has shown us to-day, what courage sufficiently presumptuous would dare to contend with him? Who would risk his life against such an opponent? Who will be this valiant, or rather this rash individual?
Don Sancho. Open the lists, you see this assailant; I am this rash or rather this valiant [champion]. Grant this favor to the zeal which urges me on; dear lady, you know what your promise is.
Don Fernando. Chimène, do you confide your quarrel to his hand?
Chimène. Sire, I have promised it.
Don Fernando. Be ready to-morrow.
Don Diego. No, sire, there is no need to defer the contest; a man is always ready when he possesses courage.
Don Fernando. [What!] To come forth from one battle and to (instantly) enter the lists [lit. to fight]?
Don Diego. Rodrigo has regained breath in relating to you this [i.e. the history of that battle].
Don Fernando. I desire that he should rest at least an hour or two; but, for fear that such a combat may be considered as a precedent, to testify to all that I permit, with regret, a sanguinary ordeal which has never pleased me, it shall not have the presence either of myself or of my court. [To Don Arias.] You alone shall judge of the valor of the combatants. Take care that both act like men of honor [lit. courage], and, the combat ended, bring the victor to me. Whoever he may be, the same reward is gained by his exertions; I desire with my own hand to present him to Chimène, and that, as a recompense, he may receive her plighted faith.
Chimène. What, sire! [would you] impose on me so stern a law?
Don Fernando. Thou complainest of it; but thy love, far from acknowledging thy complaint, if Rodrigo be the conqueror, without restraint accepts [the conditions]. Cease to murmur against such a gentle decree; whichever of the two be the victor, I shall make him thy spouse.
Act the Fifth.
Scene I.—Don Rodrigo and Chimène.
Chimène. What! Rodrigo! In broad daylight! Whence comes this audacity? Go, thou art ruining my honor; retire, I beseech thee.
Don Rodrigo. I go to die, dear lady, and I come to bid you in this place, before the mortal blow, a last adieu. This unchangeable love, which binds me beneath your laws, dares not to accept my death without paying to you homage for it.
Chimène. Thou art going to death!
Don Rodrigo. I speed to those happy moments which will deliver my life from your (feelings of) resentment.
Chimène. Thou art going to death! Is Don Sancho, then, so formidable, that he can inspire terror in this invincible heart? What has rendered thee so weak? or what renders him so strong? Does Rodrigo go to fight, and believe himself already slain [lit. dead]? He who has not feared the Moors nor my father, goes to fight Don Sancho, and already despairs? Thus, then, thy courage lowers itself in the [hour of] need.
Don Rodrigo. I speed [lit. I run] to my punishment, and not to the combat; and, since you seek my death, my faithful ardor will readily deprive me of the desire of defending my life. I have always the same courage, but I have not the [strong] arm, when it is needed, to preserve that which does not please you; and already this night would have been fatal to me, if I had fought for my own private wrong; but, defending my king, his people, and my country, by carelessly defending myself, I should have betrayed them. My high-born spirit does not hate life so much as to wish to depart from it by perfidy, now that it regards my interests only. You demand my death—I accept its decree. Your resentment chose the hand of another; I was unworthy [lit. I did not deserve] to die by yours. They shall not see me repel its blows; I owe more respect to him [the champion] who fights for you; and delighted to think that it is from you these [blows] proceed—since it is your honor that his arms sustain—I shall present to him my unprotected [or, defenceless] breast, worshipping through his hand thine that destroys me.
Chimène. If the just vehemence of a sad [sense of] duty, which causes me, in spite of myself, to follow after thy valiant life, prescribes to thy love a law so severe, that it surrenders thee without defence to him who combats for me, in this infatuation [lit. blindness], lose not the recollection, that, with thy life, thine honor is tarnished, and that, in whatever renown Rodrigo may have lived, when men shall know him to be dead, they will believe him conquered. Thine honor is dearer to thee than I am dear, since it steeps thine hands in the blood of my father, and causes thee to renounce, in spite of thy love, the sweet hope of gaining me. I see thee, however, pay such little regard to it [honor], that, without fighting, thou wishest to be overcome. What inconsistency [lit. unequality] mars thy valor! Why hast thou it [that valor] no more? or why didst thou possess it [formerly]? What! art thou valiant only to do me an injury? Unless it be to offend [or, injure] me, hast thou no courage at all? And dost thou treat my father with such rigor [i.e. so far disparage the memory of my father], that, after having conquered him, thou wilt endure a conqueror? Go! without wishing to die, leave me to pursue thee, and defend thine honor, if thou wilt no longer live.
Don Rodrigo. After the death of the count and the defeat of the Moors, will my renown still require other achievements? That [glory] may scorn the care of defending myself; it is known that my courage dares to attempt all, that my valor can accomplish all, and that, here below [lit. under the heavens], in comparison with mine honor, nothing is precious to me. No! no! in this combat, whatever thou may'st please to think, Rodrigo may die without risking his renown: without men daring to accuse him of having wanted spirit: without being considered as conquered, without enduring a conqueror. They will say only: "He adored Chimène; he would not live and merit her hatred; he yielded himself to the severity of his fate, which compelled his mistress to seek his death; she wished for his life [lit. head], and his magnanimous heart, had that been refused to her, would have considered it a crime. To avenge his honor, he lost his love; to avenge his mistress, he forsook life, preferring (whatever hope may have enslaved his soul) his honor to Chimène, and Chimène to his existence." Thus, then, you will see that my death in this conflict, far from obscuring my glory, will increase its value; and this honor will follow my voluntary death, that no other than myself could have satisfied you [for the death of your father].
Chimène. Since, to prevent thee from rushing to destruction, thy life and thine honor are [but] feeble inducements, if ever I loved thee, dear Rodrigo, in return [for that love], defend thyself now, to rescue me from Don Sancho. Fight, to release me from a compact which delivers me to the object of my aversion. Shall I say more to thee? Go, think of thy defence, to overcome my sense of duty, to impose on me silence; and if thou feelest thine heart still enamored for me, come forth, as a conqueror, from a combat of which Chimène is the reward. Adieu; this thoughtlessly uttered [lit. let slip] word causes me to blush for shame!
[Exit Chimène.]
Don Rodrigo. Where is the foe I could not now subdue? Come forth, [warriors] of Navarre, Morocco, and Castile! and all the heroes that Spain has produced; unite together and form an army, to contend against one hand thus nerved [to action]. Unite all your efforts against a hope so sweet—you have too little power to succeed in destroying it!
Scene II.—The Infanta.
Shall I listen to thee still, pride of my birth, that makest a crime out of my passions? Shall I listen to thee, love, whose delicious power causes my desires to rebel against this proud tyrant? Poor princess! to which of the two oughtest thou to yield obedience? Rodrigo, thy valor renders thee worthy of me; but although thou art valiant, thou art not the son of a king.
Pitiless fate, whose severity separates my glory and my desires! Is it decreed [lit. said], that the choice of [a warrior of] such rare merit should cost my passion such great anguish? O heaven! for how many sorrows [lit. sighs] must my heart prepare itself, if, after such a long, painful struggle, it never succeeds in either extinguishing the love, or accepting the lover!
But there are too many scruples, and my reason is alarmed at the contempt of a choice so worthy; although to monarchs only my [proud] birth may assign me, Rodrigo, with honor I shall live under thy laws. After having conquered two kings, couldst thou fail in obtaining a crown? And this great name of Cid, which thou hast just now won—does it not show too clearly over whom thou art destined to reign?
He is worthy of me, but he belongs to Chimène; the present which I made of him [to her], injures me. Between them, the death of a father has interposed so little hatred, that the duty of blood with regret pursues him. Thus let us hope for no advantage, either from his transgression or from my grief, since, to punish me, destiny has allowed that love should continue even between two enemies.
Scene III.—The Infanta and Leonora.
Infanta. Whence [i.e. for what purpose] comest thou, Leonora?
Leonora. To congratulate you, dear lady, on the tranquillity which at last your soul has recovered.
Infanta. From what quarter can tranquillity come [lit. whence should this tranquillity come], in an accumulation of sorrow?
Leonora. If love lives on hope, and if it dies with it, Rodrigo can no more charm your heart; you know of the combat in which Chimène involves him; since he must die in it, or become her husband, your hope is dead and your spirit is healed.
Infanta. Ah! how far from it!
Leonora. What more can you expect?
Infanta. Nay, rather, what hope canst thou forbid me [to entertain]? If Rodrigo fights under these conditions, to counteract the effect of it [that conflict], I have too many resources. Love, this sweet author of my cruel punishments, puts into [lit. teaches] the minds of lovers too many stratagems.
Leonora. Can you [accomplish] anything, since a dead father has not been able to kindle discord in their minds? For Chimène clearly shows by her behavior that hatred to-day does not cause her pursuit. She obtains the [privilege of a] combat, and for her champion, she accepts on the moment the first that offers. She has not recourse to those renowned knights [lit. noble hands] whom so many famous exploits render so glorious; Don Sancho suffices her, and merits her choice, because he is going to arm himself for the first time; she loves in this duel his want of experience; as he is without renown, [so] is she without apprehension; and her readiness [to accept him], ought to make you clearly see that she seeks for a combat which her duty demands, but which yields her Rodrigo an easy victory, and authorizes her at length to seem appeased.
Infanta. I observe it clearly; and nevertheless my heart, in rivalry with Chimène, adores this conqueror. On what shall I resolve, hopeless lover that I am?
Leonora. To remember better from whom you are sprung. Heaven owes you a king; you love a subject!
Infanta. The object of my attachment has completely changed: I no longer love Rodrigo as a mere nobleman. No; it is not thus that my love entitles him. If I love him, it is [as] the author of so many brilliant deeds; it is [as] the valiant Cid, the master of two kings. I shall conquer myself, however; not from dread of any censure, but in order that I may not disturb so glorious a love; and even though, to favor me, they should crown him, I will not accept again [lit. take back] a gift which I have given. Since in such a combat his triumph is certain, let us go once more to give him [or, that gift] to Chimène. And thou, who seest the love-arrows with which my heart is pierced; come see me finish as I have begun.
Scene IV.—Chimène and Elvira.
Chimène. Elvira, how greatly I suffer; and how much I am to be pitied! I know not what to hope, and I see everything to be dreaded. No wish escapes me to which I dare consent. I desire nothing without quickly repenting of it [lit. a quick repentance]. I have caused two rivals to take up arms for me: the most happy result will cause me tears; and though fate may decree in my favor, my father is without revenge, or my lover is dead.
Elvira. On the one side and the other I see you consoled; either you have Rodrigo, or you are avenged. And however fate may ordain for you, it maintains your honor and gives you a spouse.
Chimène. What! the object of my hatred or of such resentment!—the slayer of Rodrigo, or that of my father! In either case [lit. on all sides] they give me a husband, still [all] stained with the blood that I cherished most; in either case my soul revolts, and I fear more than death the ending of my quarrel. Away! vengeance, love—which agitate my feelings. Ye have no gratifications for me at such a price; and Thou, Powerful Controller of the destiny which afflicts me, terminate this combat without any advantage, without rendering either of the two conquered or conqueror.
Elvira. This would be treating you with too much severity. This combat is a new punishment for your feelings, if it leaves you [still] compelled to demand justice, to exhibit always this proud resentment, and continually to seek after the death of your lover. Dear lady, it is far better that his unequalled valor, crowning his brow, should impose silence upon you; that the conditions of the combat should extinguish your sighs; and that the King should compel you to follow your inclinations.
Chimène. If he be conqueror, dost thou believe that I shall surrender? My strong [sense of] duty is too strong and my loss too great; and this [law of] combat and the will of the King are not strong enough to dictate conditions to them [i.e. to my duty and sorrow for my loss]. He may conquer Don Sancho with very little difficulty, but he shall not with him [conquer] the sense of duty of Chimène; and whatever [reward] a monarch may have promised to his victory, my self-respect will raise against him a thousand other enemies.
Elvira. Beware lest, to punish this strange pride, heaven may at last permit you to revenge yourself. What!—you will still reject the happiness of being able now to be reconciled [lit. to be silent] with honor? What means this duty, and what does it hope for? Will the death of your lover restore to you a father? Is one [fatal] stroke of misfortune insufficient for you? Is there need of loss upon loss, and sorrow upon sorrow? Come, in the caprice in which your humor persists, you do not deserve the lover that is destined for you, and we may [lit. shall] see the just wrath of heaven, by his death, leaving you Don Sancho as a spouse.
Chimène. Elvira, the griefs which I endure are sufficient: do not redouble them by this fatal augury. I wish, if I can, to avoid both; but if not, in this conflict Rodrigo has all my prayers; not because a weak [lit. foolish] affection inclines me to his side, but because, if he were conquered, I should become [the bride] of Don Sancho. This fear creates [lit. causes to be born] my desire——
[Enter Don Sancho.]
What do I see, unhappy [woman that I am]! Elvira, all is lost!
Scene V.—Don Sancho, Chimène, and Elvira.
Don Sancho. Compelled to bring this sword to thy feet——
Chimène. What! still [all] reeking with the blood of Rodrigo! Traitor, dost thou dare to show thyself before mine eyes, after having taken from me that [being] whom I love the best? Declare thyself my love, and thou hast no more to fear. My father is satisfied; cease to restrain thyself. The same [death] stroke has placed my honor in safety, my soul in despair, and my passion at liberty!
Don Sancho. With a mind more calmly collected——
Chimène. Dost thou still speak to me, detestable assassin of a hero whom I adore? Go; you fell upon him treacherously. A warrior so valiant would never have sunk beneath such an assailant! Hope nothing from me. Thou hast not served me; and believing that thou wert avenging me, thou hast deprived me of life.
Don Sancho. Strange delusion, which, far from listening to me——
Chimène. Wilt thou that I should listen to thee while boasting of his death?—that I should patiently hear with what haughty pride thou wilt describe his misfortune, my own crime, and thy prowess?
Scene VI.—Don Fernando, Don Diego, Don Arias, Don Sancho, Don Alonzo, Chimène, and Elvira.
Chimène. Sire, there is no further need to dissemble that which all my struggles have not been able to conceal from you. I loved, you knew it; but, to avenge my father, I even wished to sacrifice so dear a being [as Rodrigo]. Sire, your majesty may have seen how I have made love yield to duty. At last, Rodrigo is dead; and his death has converted me from an unrelenting foe into an afflicted lover. I owed this revenge to him who gave me existence; and to my love I now owe these tears. Don Sancho has destroyed me in undertaking my defence; and I am the reward of the arm which destroys me. Sire, if compassion can influence a king, for mercy's sake revoke a law so severe. As the reward of a victory by which I lose that which I love, I leave him my possessions; let him leave me to myself, that in a sacred cloister I may weep continually, even to my last sigh, for my father and my lover.
Don Diego. In brief, she loves, sire, and no longer believes it a crime to acknowledge with her own lips a lawful affection.
Don Fernando. Chimène, be undeceived [lit. come out from thine error]; thy lover is not dead, and the vanquished Don Sancho has given thee a false report.
Don Sancho. Sire, a little too much eagerness, in spite of me, has misled her; I came from the combat to tell her the result. This noble warrior of whom her heart is enamored, when he had disarmed me, spoke to me thus: "Fear nothing—I would rather leave the victory uncertain, than shed blood risked in defence of Chimène; but, since my duty calls me to the King, go, tell her of our combat [on my behalf]; on the part of the conqueror, carry her thy sword." Sire, I came; this weapon deceived her; seeing me return, she believed me to be conqueror, and her resentment suddenly betrayed her love, with such excitement and so much impatience, that I could not obtain a moment's hearing. As for me, although conquered, I consider myself fortunate; and in spite of the interests of my enamored heart, [though] losing infinitely, I still love my defeat, which causes the triumph of a love so perfect.
Don Fernando. My daughter, there is no need to blush for a passion so glorious, nor to seek means of making a disavowal of it; a laudable [sense of] shame in vain solicits thee; thy honor is redeemed, and thy duty performed; thy father is satisfied, and it was to avenge him that thou didst so often place thy Rodrigo in danger. Thou seest how heaven otherwise ordains. Having done so much for him [i.e. thy father], do something for thyself; and be not rebellious against my command, which gives thee a spouse beloved so dearly.
Scene VII.—Don Fernando, Don Diego, Don Arias, Don Rodrigo, Don Alonzo, Don Sancho, The Infanta, Chimène, Leonora, and Elvira.
Infanta. Dry thy tears, Chimène, and receive without sadness this noble conqueror from the hands of thy princess.
Don Rodrigo. Be not offended, sire, if in your presence an impassioned homage causes me to kneel before her [lit. casts me before her knees]. I come not here to ask for [the reward of] my victory; I come once more [or, anew] to offer you my head, dear lady. My love shall not employ in my own favor either the law of the combat or the will of the King. If all that has been done is too little for a father, say by what means you must be satisfied. Must I still contend against a thousand and a thousand rivals, and to the two ends of the earth extend my labors, myself alone storm a camp, put to flight an army, surpass the renown of fabulous heroes? If my deep offence can be by that means washed away, I dare undertake all, and can accomplish all. But if this proud honor, always inexorable, cannot be appeased without the death of the guilty [offender], arm no more against me the power of mortals; mine head is at thy feet, avenge thyself by thine own hands; thine hands alone have the right to vanquish the invincible. Take thou a vengeance to all others impossible. But at least let my death suffice to punish me; banish me not from thy remembrance, and, since my doom preserves your honor, to recompense yourself for this, preserve my memory, and say sometimes, when deploring my fate: "Had he not loved me, he would not have died."
Chimène. Rise, Rodrigo. I must confess it, sire, I have said too much to be able to unsay it. Rodrigo has noble qualities which I cannot hate; and, when a king commands, he ought to be obeyed. But to whatever [fate] you may have already doomed me, can you, before your eyes, tolerate this union? And when you desire this effort from my feeling of duty, is it entirely in accord with your sense of justice? If Rodrigo becomes so indispensable to the state, of that which he has done for you ought I to be the reward, and surrender myself to the everlasting reproach of having imbrued my hands in the blood of a father?
Don Fernando. Time has often rendered lawful that which at first seemed impossible, without being a crime. Rodrigo has won thee, and thou art justly his. But, although his valor has by conquest obtained thee to-day, it would need that I should become the enemy of thy self-respect, to give him so soon the reward of his victory. This bridal deferred does not break a law, which, without specifying the time, devotes thy faith to him. Take a year, if thou wilt, to dry thy tears; Rodrigo, in the mean time, must take up arms. After having vanquished the Moors on our borders, overthrown their plans, and repulsed their attacks, go, carry the war even into their country, command my army, and ravage their territory. At the mere name of Cid they will tremble with dismay. They have named thee lord! they will desire thee as their king! But, amidst thy brilliant [lit. high] achievements, be thou to her always faithful; return, if it be possible, still more worthy of her, and by thy great exploits acquire such renown, that it may be glorious for her to espouse thee then.
Don Rodrigo. To gain Chimène, and for your service, what command can be issued to me that mine arm cannot accomplish? Yet, though absent from her [dear] eyes, I must suffer grief, sire, I have too much happiness in being able—to hope!
Don Fernando. Hope in thy manly resolution; hope in my promise, and already possessing the heart of thy mistress, let time, thy valor, and thy king exert themselves [lit. do, or act], to overcome a scrupulous feeling of honor which is contending against thee.