Don Álvaro, or, the Force of Fate [1 ed.] 9780813216461, 9780813213972

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Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved. Don Álvaro, or, the Force of Fate, Catholic University of America Press, 2005. ProQuest Ebook Central,

Don Álvaro, O R T H E F O R C E O F FAT E (1835)

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o]

Don Álvaro, or, the Force of Fate, Catholic University of America Press, 2005. ProQuest Ebook

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Portrait of Ángel de Saavedra, Duke of Rivas, in the Ateneo de Madrid. Courtesy, Ateneo de Madrid.

Don Álvaro, or, the Force of Fate, Catholic University of America Press, 2005. ProQuest Ebook

Don Álvaro, O R T H E F O R C E O F FAT E (1835)

o] A Play by

Ángel de Saavedra, Duke of Rivas Translated from the Spanish by

Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

Robert M. Fedorchek

Introduction by Joyce Tolliver

The Catholic University of America Press Washington, D.C.

Don Álvaro, or, the Force of Fate, Catholic University of America Press, 2005. ProQuest Ebook

Copyright © 2005 The Catholic University of America Press All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America

The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standards for Information Science—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984. ∞

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Rivas, Ángel de Saavedra, duque de, 1791–1865. [Don Álvaro. English] Don Álvaro, or The force of fate (1835) : a play by Ángel de Saavedra, Duke of Rivas ; translated from the Spanish by Robert M. Fedorchek ; introduction by Joyce Tolliver. p.

cm.

Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 0-8132-1397-5 (pbk : alk. paper) I. Title: Don Álvaro. II. Title: Force of fate. III. Fedorchek, Robert M., 1938– IV. Title. PQ6560.D613

2005

862’.5—dc22 2004004857

Don Álvaro, or, the Force of Fate, Catholic University of America Press, 2005. ProQuest Ebook

For Louise, Jack, and Richard

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o]

Don Álvaro, or, the Force of Fate, Catholic University of America Press, 2005. ProQuest Ebook

Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved. Don Álvaro, or, the Force of Fate, Catholic University of America Press, 2005. ProQuest Ebook

CONTENTS

o] Translator’s Preface Introduction by Joyce Tolliver

ix xiii

D O N Á LVA R O , O R T H E F O R C E O F FAT E

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Cast Of Characters

3

Act 1

5

Act 2

31

Act 3

62

Act 4

87

Act 5

111

Select Bibliography

139

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T R A N S L AT O R ’ S P R E FAC E

o] On Sunday, March 22, 1835, Don Álvaro, or the Force of Fate (Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino) by Ángel de Saavedra, duke of Rivas (1791–1865), premiered at the Teatro del Príncipe in Madrid. It had a run of eleven days, which, by the standards of the time, made it a success.1 And it changed the Spanish stage at one fell swoop, closing—and resoundingly so—the door on the narrow constraints and rules of neoclassicism and opening that of the freedom of expression of the romanticism that had been sweeping through Germany, England, and France. Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

The Duke of Rivas, having sided against the absolutist king Ferdinand VII and fearing reprisal, had fled Spain in 1823 to live in exile—successively in Gibraltar, London, Malta, and France—until 1834. He returned to his homeland after Ferdinand’s death, when the latter’s widow, María Cristina, declared an amnesty. During this time he wrote a great deal, especially poetry, little by little distancing himself from the neoclassical tragedies, like Aliatar (1816) and The Duke of Aquitaine (El duque de Aquitania, 1817), that he had written as a young man. Influenced by other Spanish exiles, especially his friend Antonio Alcalá

1. Ricardo Navas Ruiz, El romanticismo español, 4th ed. (Madrid: Ediciones Cátedra, 1990), 179.

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Galiano, and on Malta by John Hookham Frere2, who introduced him to Shakespeare, Byron, and Scott, and urged him to read the Spanish greats, like the playwright Lope de Vega, Rivas gradually moved to a more personal, more “individual” expression, one of the hallmarks of romanticism and the tenets of Jean Jacques Rousseau. He wrote the first draft of Don Álvaro in Tours in 1832 or 1833, then reworked parts of the play before its premiere in 1835. With its complete freedom in the use of time; its five jornadas (acts); its mysterious, passionate, valiant hero and melodramatic heroine; and its overheated plot and mixture of prose and verse, Don Álvaro, or the Force of Fate shattered the neoclassical rules that then held sway. And it has drama, and action, and declamation, and it freed the individual to state his or her emotions. All of Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

this was utilized to the fullest extent by Giuseppe Verdi in his opera based on Don Álvaro, La forza del destino (1862). Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino is written in a combination of prose and verse. In the translation the latter has been rendered into prose, but the text is set in short lines (in approximate measure with the original) so that the reader will know when verse is used in the Spanish. I wish to thank Noël Valis, who read the entire first act and made many constructive suggestions; Joyce Tolliver, a scholar who always writes with exemplary clarity and ad2. Gabriel Lovett, The Duke of Rivas (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1977), 18–19.

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mirable acumen about nineteenth-century Spanish literature; Minia Bongiorno García, who secured the slide of the Duke of Rivas from the Ateneo de Madrid; Orin Grossman, academic vice president of Fairfield University, who financially and humanistically supported the publication of this play; and my wife, Theresa, with whose patience and generosity of mind and heart I have been very abun-

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dantly blessed.

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I N T RODUCT ION Joyce Tolliver

o] Don Álvaro, or the Force of Fate (Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino) is a work that is required reading for all serious students and scholars of Spanish literature. The work has not, however, been universally acknowledged as a masterpiece: when it was first performed in 1835, it immediately caused a scandal, and for several generations after its debut scholars and critics continued to express their outrage, or bemusement, or even scorn, at the work. Formal-

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ly, the Duke of Rivas’s play seemed like an abomination to some members of its audience in 1835, for it violated all the accepted neoclassical norms of unity and symmetry. Not only is the work written in mixed prose and verse, its setting leaps from Seville to Hornachuelos to Veletri and back to Hornachuelos, and the action occurs over a time span of years, not the prescribed twenty-four hours. Characters of the highest and of the lowest social levels interact, the language some of them use is anything but polished, and the stage directions sometimes call for the most challenging and fanciful settings. More to the point, the characters are, almost without exception, driven by complex and voluble passions: the female lead plans to elope with her lover, and the male protagonist commits suicide,

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hurling blasphemous curses as he does so. In short, the play is a wonderfully over-the-top romantic drama. No wonder it outraged audiences accustomed to the didactic, formally simple neoclassical works of the time; no wonder it was dismissed by the members of the Generation of 1898, whose preoccupation with Spain’s necessity to modernize itself led to a rejection of anything that typified the nineteenth century. From the perspective of today’s reader, however, the play’s hostile reception seems like a very good sign indeed, an indication of the various ways in which the work’s author challenged conventional notions of drama, of literature, and even of morality. The plot of Don Álvaro begins on the day of the planned elopement of Leonor de Vargas, daughter of the Marquis of Calatrava, with Don Álvaro, an “indiano” of mysterious Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

origin. The marquis is a member of the illustrious Order of Calatrava, although, as Preciosilla comments (1.2), he is not nearly as well off economically as Don Álvaro is. As we discover from the gossip of the Canon (1.2), the marquis has taken Leonor off to his country estate outside of Seville in order to separate her from Don Álvaro, whom he considers a parvenu and thus an unacceptable suitor for his daughter. Don Álvaro, however, has managed to find Leonor, and the two have planned to escape together from the estate in order to be married in secret. But, as we see in the climactic Scene 7 of Act 1, the marquis discovers the plan, finds Álvaro in his daughter’s room, and furiously accuses Álvaro of being a “despicable seducer.” For the marquis, the apparent sexual liaison represents dis-

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honor not only to the Vargas name, but to the Order of Calatrava. The marquis and his sons insist on living by a rigid, even barbarous, interpretation of the honor code, an interpretation best exemplified in the plays of Calderón de la Barca, which were written fully two centuries before the period in which Don Álvaro takes place. According to this interpretation of the honor code, a “stain” of this sort can only be removed with blood: both Álvaro and Leonor must die at the hands of those they have wronged—in this case, Leonor’s father and her brothers. The offense is greatly complicated when Don Álvaro throws down his pistol in order to demonstrate his acquiescence to his punishment, and accidentally shoots and kills the marquis. As Walter Pattison1 has pointed out, the plot of Don ÁlCopyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

varo revolves around the fact of the protagonist’s secret identity as the son of an Incan princess and a Spanish viceroy who, between them, attempted to establish a new, independent empire in the New World. Álvaro has ostensibly come to Spain, in fact, in order to procure the release of his parents from the Peruvian prison where they languish, to clear their name and thus his own. But once Álvaro inadvertently causes the death of the marquis, his primary mission seems to be forgotten. Injured in the fracas that ensues after the marquis’s death, and fearing that Leonor has been killed, he escapes from the Vargas estate and flees to Italy, where, using the name “Don Fadrique 1. “The Secret of Don Álvaro,” Symposium 21 (1976): 68–69.

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de Herreros,” he valiantly fights for the Spanish Crown in the War of Austrian Succession.2 Álvaro’s fame as the “glory of Spain” is tarnished, however, when he unwittingly violates a newly published antidueling law by accepting the challenge thrown down by Don Carlos de Vargas, whom he had known, and grown to love, as his comrade-in-arms, Don Félix de Avendaña. Álvaro wins the duel, kills Carlos/Félix, and is sentenced to death. But when the Austrians stage a surprise attack on Veletri, Álvaro’s guards abandon him, and he rushes into battle, vowing to end his days as a penitent if he survives the battle. Four years pass, and we next see Don Álvaro living in an isolated monastery under the name of “Father Rafael,” having taken religious vows and abjured his worldly life. Many readers of the work have been puzzled by ÁlCopyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

varo’s seeming lack of attention to the important task he has undertaken. Don Álvaro is convinced that he need only clear his parents’ name in order to be welcomed into society and allowed to marry Leonor. But we never see him take any action that might lead him toward that goal. He adopts a fictional name to fight for the Crown, so he cannot be motivated by a desire to win glory for the family name through his heroic deeds in battle. In fact, he admits that he has chosen the life of the warrior not out of 2. The War of Austrian Succession took place from 1740 to 1748. In 1744 the combined forces of Spain and Naples, serving under Charles the Bourbon, occupied the city of Veletri, where most of the action of Acts 3 and 4 takes place. August of that year saw the Battle of Veletri, depicted in the last scene of Act 4, in which Charles’s troops successfully fought off a surprise attack by the Austrians.

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any altruistic urge, but rather because he seeks death (3.3). Once he has escaped the death sentence, one might expect him to dedicate his energies to finding ways to secure clemency for his parents without endangering his own life. Instead, he retires to a monastery where he stays until he is discovered by Leonor’s revenge-seeking brother, Don Alfonso. The enigma of Álvaro’s conduct is partially explained by the nature of his character: although he is noble and good, he is also impetuous. Much of his inner conflict is explained, for some critics, by his dual nature—raised among “barbarians,” as he himself puts it (3.3), and thus prone to fits of passion; but also a Spanish nobleman by birthright, and therefore bound to the code of honor. He tries to conduct himself in accordance with the centuries-old (and, by Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

then, moldering) code of honor of the Spanish aristocracy, yet his actions are ultimately determined not by his head, but by his heart and his passions. Thus, the work can be read as a comment on the post-Enlightenment individual’s struggle to subdue the emotional or instinctual aspects of his being. One reading of Álvaro’s characterization would align his impulsiveness with his Incan (maternal) heritage and his desire to control his passions and to incorporate himself into society with his (paternal) noble European lineage. According to that reading, the play would anticipate the later Latin American dichotomous topos of civilization versus barbarism, in which the civilizing force is associated with the masculine and the European, barbarism with the feminine and the indigenous.

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Nevertheless, a cursory glance at the behavior of the Vargas men reminds us that the question of what constitutes “barbarism” and how to define “civilization” is by no means so simple. Representatives of the “purest” Spanish nobility, the three Vargas men are, without exception, impulsive, aggressive, hot-headed, and concerned far more with upholding their version of the rancid honor code than they are with establishing the truth or with honoring the bonds of human love. Each of them is quick to assume the guilt of Leonor, and will not consider evidence to the contrary; and each of them is merciless in his insistence that Leonor must be killed for having dishonored the family. Leonor’s father, moments after tenderly professing his infinite fatherly love for her (1.5) calls her “wicked” and “an infamous woman,” and then disowns her. His dying Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

words addressed to his daughter are “A curse on you!” Leonor’s two brothers both hunt for her in order to kill her with their own swords in an attempt to restore the honor of the family name and of the Order of Calatrava. Likewise, once Don Carlos discovers that Don Fadrique is in fact Don Álvaro, he never wavers from his resolve to kill him, even though Don Álvaro is now his closest friend. The way in which he discovers the true identity of Don Fadrique illustrates his disdain for the spirit of the honor code, in spite of his literal-minded adherence to its letter: he violates his moribund friend’s trust by looking through the contents of the box containing the sheaf of papers Álvaro has ordered burned, although he keeps his promise to Álvaro not to read the papers. Carlos seems

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unaware of the irony of his blind acceptance of the honor code’s demand for blood vengeance, even if it means slaying a man to whom he owes a debt of gratitude for having saved his career, and perhaps even his life. He is deaf to Álvaro’s entreaty to end the Vargas vendetta by honoring destiny’s plan for a bond between the two men, to be sealed by Álvaro’s marriage to Leonor (4.1). Carlos has even blasphemously prayed to God to save Álvaro’s life, so that he may exact his revenge: “Heaven/ above, let my offended honor not/make me act rashly. Save this man’s life/so that I can take it from him” (3.8). In his brother Don Alfonso, the thirst for vengeance is much stronger than, for instance, the respect any honorable person would show for a priest’s religious vows. He tracks down Don Álvaro to the monastery where he now Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

lives as a priest, forces his way into his cell, and challenges the monk to a duel—even providing him with the sword himself. Like his father and his brother, he considers any love he may have ever felt toward his sister to be secondary to his need to cleanse the “stain” she has purportedly left on the family’s honor. In fact, Don Alfonso’s last act before dying is to plunge his sword into the heart of his own sister, who has spent her last years living as a penitent hermit. Surely, these characters cannot represent anything but the most savage, barbarous elements of an honor code and of an aristocracy that by the time of the play’s action are both in frank decadence. Like the Vargas family, Don Álvaro is also concerned for the “honor” of his family’s name. Ironically, however,

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while the honor of Álvaro’s father’s name may be restored, his mother is still positioned entirely outside of the honor system. Honor cannot reside in her, for, although she is also a member of nobility, the aristocratic order to which she belongs is one of “barbarians,” the Incas. When, as a final cruel blow, Don Alfonso reveals to Álvaro that his father’s name has indeed now been cleared—and by Álvaro’s uncle, with no help from Álvaro himself—Álvaro ingenuously clings to the hope that he might still marry Leonor. Don Alfonso snidely reminds him that not only is he now a priest, he is also a deserter from the army and a fugitive from justice. If Don Álvaro’s past deeds are not sufficient to make him unfit to marry Leonor, his very identity is: “I tell you not to boast/of being noble. You are a half-/breed, the fruit of betrayal” (5.9). Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

If the royal pardon of Álvaro’s father’s crime of treason effectively expunges that crime from the record, then technically there has been no betrayal of the Crown. The more profound betrayal is a cultural one. In marrying an Incan princess, Álvaro’s father has transgressed the social and cultural norms of the Spanish honor code—a code that might overlook discreet sexual alliances with members of “inferior” races and classes, but that would never forgive the exogamy and miscegenation represented by marriage to a mate of another race, another culture, another world. Álvaro, like his mother, cannot ever make any claims to holding honor, not because of his actions, but because of what he is: necessarily, inevitably, and perpetually an outsider. He leaves the world of his parents,

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which is literally and figuratively a prison, and comes to a new world that he thinks is his own, by right of his father’s noble birth. But that world, as well, will mark him not only as the son of a dishonored family, but as a mestizo and thus a pariah whose body constitutes a permanent and irrevocable sign of his outcast status. No matter how rich he is, no matter how valiantly he fights for the Crown, no matter how loyal a friend or how faithful a lover he is, he will always be “impure,” in spite of Tío Paco’s optimistic assertion that “we are what we do” (1.2). It is for this reason, according to Pattison, that Álvaro ultimately does nothing to secure his parents’ release from prison, for were he to reveal the secret of his origin, his desired marriage to Leonor could never take place. It is also, at least in part, the realization of his essential “otherCopyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

ness” that impels Don Álvaro to his suicide, as Susan Kirkpatrick argues.3 Ultimately, for Richard Cardwell,4 as well as for David Gies,5 Don Álvaro’s suicide is driven by his realization that, in spite of all his attempts to act honorably, in spite of the purity of his love for Leonor, destiny (or what Cardwell calls “cosmic injustice”) gave him “one smiling/day, and one only, perhaps/with a more sinister aim” (3.3). Don Álvaro, like Calderón’s Segismundo, was born literal3. Las románticas: Women Writers and Subjectivity in Spain (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1989), 109–21. 4. “Don Álvaro or the Force of Cosmic Injustice,” Studies in Romanticism 12 (1973): 564. 5. The Theater in Nineteenth-Century Spain (Cambridge, U.K.: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 110.

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ly and figuratively in prison, and he is powerless to change that. Like Segismundo, he laments the cruelty of fate, which determines that human beings will be born only to die and that the very brevity of happiness serves only to make us more aware of the misery of our existence. Thus the brief moment of happiness that Álvaro was allowed to enjoy with Leonor is akin to the light shone by the executioner “in the dark/jail with the tyrannical intention/of having the prisoner see some of the/ horror that surrounds him in his/frightful abode” (3.3). In this way, the world reveals itself as a place in which the fate of individuals lies in the hands of a “force of fate” that is inflexible, arbitrary and, we might say, savage; in portraying Álvaro’s plight, Rivas expresses a “revolutionary message of man’s desperation in a chaotic and unjust cosCopyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

mos” (Gies, 109). In like manner, Leonor’s actions can in no way remove the “stain” she has placed on the honor of the Vargas name. As a woman, she is a repository of family honor rather than a holder of it. More important than any action she may take in her life is the appearance of her violation of socially determined sexual mores, or, indeed, even the appearance of her sexual victimization by her lover. In Leonor, we find a representation of a woman who, in modern terms, has been psychologically traumatized. She is pulled between her conflicting allegiances to Álvaro and to her doting father, between her desire to act autonomously, even in disobedience of her father’s orders, and her desire to maintain the tender love of the only par-

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ent she has known.6 When she ultimately decides to disobey her father in order to secure her own happiness, she is harshly punished. The “obedient girl” who was her father’s “love, [his] consolation, [his] hope, [his] joy” (1.5) soon witnesses that parent’s fatal shooting by the pistol of her lover, and must carry with her the burden of his final curse for the rest of her life. Not only does she become an orphan, she also loses the love of her two brothers, who both vow to kill her; and she believes herself to have been abandoned by the lover for whom she was willing to “forsake [her] home and family” (1.6). It takes Leonor a year to begin to recover from that traumatic night, to no longer be “followed by the bloody apparition of [her] father,” to no longer “hear his curses” or “see his horrible wound” (2.7). Leonor is truly alone; Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

like Don Álvaro, she is now ostracized from society. She is now inevitably identified as the object of the judging gaze of others, or the subject of “an entertaining story,” as the innkeeper’s wife puts it (2.1). When Father Superior expresses amazement at her identity, Leonor responds, “It horrifies you to look at me.” Such is her abject state that she cannot tolerate the objectifying gaze of others: “I can 6. It is significant that Leonor, like many heroines of the Spanish dramas of the Golden Age, is motherless. It is even more intriguing that, in this work, the memory of the absent mother is in no way idealized, as we might expect in a romantic work. Instead, Curra tells Leonor that her mother “was more vain than Señor” and comments on her “quick temper and haughty airs” (1.6). Busquets suggests that, when Leonor seeks shelter in “Mother Church,” she is searching for a maternal protection that she has never known.

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live only where no one else lives,/where no one else/talks to me” (2.7). Like Álvaro, Leonor is now an outsider, one whose existence cannot continue within society’s bounds. It is the reality of both characters’ alterity that propels the plot, just as much as the conflict between human will and implacable fate.7 Don Álvaro, as Caldera reminds us, dramatizes the clash between two fundamentally opposed views of existence: “an existential vision, based on love, and another, hatebased vision—of which the honor code is no more than a metonymical extension—defended by decadent aristocrats who are the perfect representations of that ancien régime that the author himself had helped to bring down.” 8 In fact, the work has been seen by critics of the past three decades or so “as a pivotal work in the development of Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

drama from the reasoned, comprehensible, classical and neoclassical tragedy to the random, disorienting message of the modern Theater of the Absurd,” as Gies states (110). The work is modern, however, not only because it represents “the modern world’s conception of life as less than 7. Donald L. Shaw provides an excellent summary of critical readings that posit the centrality to Don Álvaro of the conflict between predestination and free will or between free will and the forces of a rigid social code. See his introduction to Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino (Madrid: Castalia, 1986), 11–24. 8. Ermanno Caldera, El teatro español en la época romántica (Madrid: Castalia, 2001), 81; my translation. The original is as follows: “una visión existencial fundada sobre el amor [y] otra fundada sobre el odio—del cual el pundonor no es más que una extensión metonínima— y defendida por unos aristócratas decadentes, perfectos intérpretes de ese antiguo régimen que el propio autor había contribuido a derrocar.”

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ordered, less than reasonable, and less than subject to rules of human behavior” (110). Its modernity also lies in the fact that it presents questions of identity and subjectivity in ways that are anything but fixed. Identity is nearly always in question in Don Álvaro. The true identity of the protagonist is, from the beginning of the play, an enigma to all. The customers of the water-vending stall consider the various versions of his identity: that he is a pirate, or “the bastard son of a Spanish grandee and a Moorish queen,” or, most absurd of all, “a Finca .l.l. or a Brinca .l.l. something really big over there in America .l.l. that’s it, an Inca!” (1.2). The marquis knows him only as a rich parvenu. Later, when Álvaro is serving the king’s army in Veletri, he is simultaneously the courageous Don Fadrique, “the glory of the Spanish army, the radiant sun of Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

Hispanic bravery” (3.4), a vile seducer with a murky past (3.8), and an anguished, possibly suicidal victim of circumstances over which he seems to have no control (3.3). By Act 5, he is Father Rafael, who is himself described first as a “servant of God that all .l.l. should imitate” (5.2) and then as a “demon” (5.8). The identities of other characters are also changeable. Don Carlos de Vargas is viewed by the other soldiers as the irresponsible adjutant of the general, one who shows such poor taste and judgment that he “loves to gamble, .l.l. spends freely,” flirts with the colonel’s wife, and, after all, deserves to be tricked at cards (3.1). He introduces himself to Don Álvaro as Don Félix de Avendaña, a relative of the general, who is serving in the war “only out of curiosity”

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(3.4). When Don Álvaro and Don Carlos first meet, each considers the other a true gentleman. Don Álvaro, surprised to see “a man of [his] class” in an infamous gambling house, is “captivated” by Don Carlos’s frankness; Don Carlos is deeply moved by gratitude toward Don Álvaro for saving his career, and is profoundly impressed to discover that he owes this favor to none other than “the glory of Spain” (3.4). The audience realizes, before Don Carlos does, that the two close friends are in fact mortal enemies. Doña Leonor, likewise, virtually discards her identity when she disguises herself as a man and then isolates herself from society in her hermitage. Her identity is the subject of great speculation in the inn where she lodges on her way to the monastery. The Student, who has been Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

searching for Álvaro with Don Carlos, presses the innkeeper’s wife for information, but is unable to determine even the gender of the mysterious guest. When Leonor arrives at the monastery, Brother Melitón assumes she is one of many (male) penitents who have traveled to the monastery on the day of the Porziuncula jubilee. Leonor reveals her identity only in her discussion with Father Superior; even then, she identifies herself not as the daughter of an illustrious noble family, but as “a wretched woman, the/curse of all creation” (2.7). It is Father Superior who identifies her as Doña Leonor, for he has received a letter from her confessor explaining her situation. Once she persuades Father Superior to allow her to inhabit the hermitage near the monastery, her identity is lost to

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all but the kindly priest; even the monks believe that the hermit living under their protection is a man. It is not only individual identity that is malleable in this work; in fact, in Don Álvaro, the very nature of truth and of knowledge are open to question. Repeatedly, what the characters accept as truth is later shown to be false, and an alternative “truth” substituted for it. The readers, along with the characters, are also repeatedly called upon to discard premises we had provisionally accepted, just as we are presented with various versions of the characters’ identities. Preciosilla tells us, in the second scene of Act 1, that the Marquis of Calatrava “is such a stingy and doddering old fool, he’d do anything to avoid loosening the purse strings and spending.” Just three scenes later, however, when we first see the marquis with Leonor, he is Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

most solicitous and affectionate, encouraging his daughter to write to her brothers and “ask them for whatever cannot be found in Seville.” Preciosilla has apparently been unfair; the marquis could not be a better father. Yet two scenes later, we must once again change our premises: the solicitous, loving father dies cursing his daughter. The apparently chameleonic change in the marquis’s character is itself prompted by the ambiguity of the tableau he interrupts. The readers have just seen a tender love scene in which Álvaro has come to escort Leonor to the priest who is waiting nearby to bless their union—a resolution that would place the lovers’ relationship safely within the socially and religiously sanctioned institution of marriage, and that would also provide a “happy end-

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INTRODUCTION

ing” in the marriage of the servants Curra and Antonio. The marquis, on the other hand, interrupting this scene, interprets it as a monstrous violation of his paternal authority and of all the rules of honorable conduct, one that can only be remedied with the death of both the criminals. When Álvaro throws down his pistol, he intends to signify his acceptance of his punishment and his acquiescence to the laws that he has violated only in appearance. That same action, instead, is interpreted as precisely the opposite of what Álvaro intended, as a murderous extension of his defiance of the father and all he represents. What happens to Leonor after her father’s death is also recounted in conflicting ways: the Student says that he and Don Carlos had learned “that she had died in the melee that broke out the night of her father’s death, when Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

the old marquis’s servants scuffled with those of the abductor and murderer” (2.1). Álvaro repeats the same version of Leonor’s end (3.3, 4.1), but, in contradiction to what his friend the Student claims, Don Carlos says that she lived for a year with her aunt and then escaped when she realized that he had found her (4.1). Neither Don Alfonso nor Don Álvaro knows, as the reader does, that Leonor has left her aunt’s house to live as a hermit. The hermit, whom only the reader and Father Superior know to be Leonor, is, for all other characters, an enigmatic, saintly man—a saintly man whom Don Álvaro urgently summons when Don Alfonso, mortally wounded in his duel with Álvaro, pleads to have his last confession heard. When Álvaro urges the saint to leave the hermitage, the

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scene that both he and Alfonso expect to ensue is one in which a man devoted to God administers last rites to one who repents for the passions of his previous life, and is spiritually saved. Instead of a scene of spiritual reconciliation, however, what follows is one of violence and spiritual degradation, in which the barbarism of the honor code is played out: the cold-blooded murder of his own sister by the “penitent,” and the witnessing of this murder by the man who has unintentionally, fatefully, set this string of events in motion. Even Álvaro’s suicide, which ends the play, is presented in ambiguous terms. Brother Melitón is convinced that the mysterious monk is actually the devil in disguise; after all, legend has it that the devil had invaded the sacred walls of the monastery once before, many years earlier. Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

Although readers should be skeptical of the ideas expressed by the comic buffoon, in fact Don Álvaro’s last words lend credence to Brother Melitón’s fears, for, with “a diabolical smile,” he says, “I’m an envoy from hell, I’m the exterminating devil” (5, final scene). On the other hand, moments earlier, Don Álvaro, “terrified,” had refused to administer the last rites to Don Alfonso, telling him “I am .l.l. a miserable victim of the devil” (5.10; my emphasis). Álvaro’s sacrilegious leap off the mountain top to his death, accompanied by his exhortation, “Hell, open your mouth and swallow me,” clearly represents his final rejection of God. But “Father Rafael’s” leap into the abyss is not simply an indication of the devil’s powers. As Gies (109) points out, Álvaro’s “leap into the void of nonexis-

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INTRODUCTION

tence” is not only “crazed” and “diabolical,” it is also “apocalyptic,” for just before he hurls himself off the cliff, he execrates both the heavens and all of the human race: “May the heavens collapse, may the human race perish— extermination, destruction!” Because of its moral and symbolic ambiguity, Álvaro’s suicide has been the subject of considerable critical speculation.9 Paradoxically, the only thing that seems to be clear is that it is in the ambiguity itself of Álvaro’s final act that its meaning resides. As Busquets comments, “it is precisely to this intriguing ambiguity that the work owes its modernity (“es precisamente a esta sugestiva ambigüedad que la obra debe su modernidad”).10 Two decades after the work’s debut, Eugenio de Ochoa categorized Don Álvaro as “‘an exact model of modern drama’” (cited in Gies 111). We might say the Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

same thing today. Don Álvaro, or the Force of Fate, typically read and taught as an example of early Spanish romanticism, is significantly more, for it is also, in several ways, a surprisingly modern work. It is entirely fitting, then, that this translation 9. We have already mentioned the interpretations of Kirkpatrick, Cardwell, and Gies in this regard. A cogent and thorough overview of critical readings of the protagonist’s suicide, from the comments of Rivas’s friend Antonio Alcalá Galiano to those of Kirkpatrick, can be found in Donald E. Schurlknight’s chapter on Don Álvaro in his Spanish Romanticism in Context (Lanham, Md.: University Press of America, 1998), 36–38. Schurlknight also provides the entire text of Alcalá Galiano’s review of the play. 10. “Don Álvaro o la fuerza de la Historia,” Cuadernos Hispanoamericanos 547 (1996): 78.

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should present the work to us in a language that seems as fresh and contemporary as it did to the work’s original audiences. In particular, the choice to translate the entire work into prose, while signaling the verse sections of the 1835 work by shorter lines, is an apt one. Not only does this technique preserve the rapid pace of Rivas’s piece and maintain its accessibility to today’s audiences, it is also historically accurate. As Lewis Brett notes, the 1835 work we now read as Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino is in fact a rewriting of a version Rivas wrote in exile several years earlier, which was drafted entirely in prose.11 Lawrence Venuti has suggested that translation is not simply a linguistic act, but also an act of cultural resituation, a sort of “rewriting” of the foreign original for a domestic audience. It may well be that, in rewriting Rivas’s verse as prose, Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

Robert Fedorchek has, whether intentionally or by a curious twist of fate, brought us closer to Rivas’s first version of the work, a version that no longer exists in written form (Brett 59). He has also brought a thoroughly Spanish, thoroughly romantic work to an English-reading public of the postmodern age in ways that preserve its Spanish romanticism, while at the same time highlighting the striking modernity of the piece. 11. Nineteenth-Century Spanish Plays (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: PrenticeHall, 1963), 59.

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Don Álvaro, O R T H E F O R C E O F FAT E (1835)

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o]

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CAST OF CHARACTERS

o] DON ÁLVARO MARQUIS OF CALATRAVA DON CARLOS DE VARGAS, the marquis’s son DON ALFONSO DE VARGAS, the marquis’s son DOÑA LEONOR, the marquis’s daughter CURRA, a maid PRECIOSILLA, a Gypsy girl

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A MAJO 1 THE SUPERIOR OF THE MONASTERY OF LOS ÁNGELES BROTHER MELITÓN, the monastery doorkeeper PEDRAZA AND OTHER OFFICERS AN ARMY SURGEON A REGIMENTAL CHAPLAIN

1. Majo: A term originally used to refer to individuals from the working-class districts (barrios bajos) of Madrid in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. They were noted for their loud, extravagant dress, arrogant ways, uninhibited behavior, and colorful speech. The majo (and maja) were subjects in one-act farces by Ramón de la Cruz (1731–1794) and paintings by Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828).

3

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CAST OF CHARACTERS

A MAGISTRATE A STUDENT A CANON INNKEEPER INNKEEPER’S WIFE SERVANT GIRL AT THE INN TÍO TRABUCO, a muleteer TÍO PACO, a water vendor THE PROVOST MARSHAL A SERGEANT AN ORDERLY ON HORSEBACK

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TWO INHABITANTS OF SEVILLE SPANISH SOLDIERS, MULETEERS, AND VILLAGERS

Notes: Costumes are clothes that were worn in the mideighteenth century. If there are not enough actors, one can play the roles of two or three minor characters who appear in different acts. If, because of inadequate settings in our theaters, the panorama of the scenery for the second act cannot be changed, a backdrop curtain that depicts a rugged mountain at night can be lowered within moments. This play premiered in Madrid at the Teatro del Príncipe on March 22, 1835, with the principal roles played by Señora Concepción Rodríguez and Señores Luna, Romea, López, etc.

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AC T 1

o] The action takes place in and around Seville SCENE 1

The stage reproduces the approach to the old pontoon bridge, passable on the right, that connects the suburb of Triana with Seville. In the foreground, also on the right, is a water-vending stall or booth fashioned from boards and sections of canvas, with a sign that reads “Water from Tomares,”1 and inside the stall, on a rustic counter, are four large jugs, pots of flowers, glasses, a portable stove with a tin coffee kettle on it, and a tray of lemonflavored lumps of sugar. In front of the stall are pine benches. In Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

the background, seen from afar, is a view of part of the suburb of Triana, the Remedios Garden with its tall cypresses, the Guadalquivir River, and several boats flying streamers and pennants. On the left, also seen from afar, is the Alameda promenade.2 Several inhabitants of Seville cross the stage in all directions throughout the opening scenes. The sky represents a July afternoon sunset. As the curtain is drawn back, the following characters appear: Tío Paco, in shirtsleeves behind the counter; an officer, standing and drinking a glass of water; Preciosilla,3 alongside him tuning a 1. A small town three miles southwest of Seville, famous at the time for its water. 2. This retreat, with paths, trees, fountains, benches, and statues of Hercules and Julius Caesar, dates back to the sixteenth century. 3. Preciosilla is the diminutive of “Preciosa,” the name of the protag-

5

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ACT 1

guitar; and the majo and the two inhabitants of Seville sitting on benches. OFFICER.

All right, Preciosilla, you have it well tuned. Come

on now, sing us the Ronda fandango.4 PRECIOSILLA.

Señorito, don’t be so impatient. First give me

your hand and I’ll tell you your fortune. OFFICER.

Nothing doing. I’m not interested in your flattery.

Even if you really could tell me what the future holds, I wouldn’t want to hear it. No. It’s almost always better not to know. MAJO.

(Standing up.) Well, I want this pretty thing to tell

me mine. Here’s my hand. PRECIOSILLA.

Get your filthy paw away from me! Good

Lord, I don’t even want to look at it, otherwise that

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girl with the big eyes might get jealous! MAJO.

(Sitting down.) Get jealous of a no-account like you?

PRECIOSILLA.

Come on, handsome. Don’t be angry. Treat

me to a drink. MAJO.

Tío Paco, give this creature a glass of water. On me.

PRECIOSILLA. OFFICER.

And with a lump of sugar?

Yes, and after you refresh your throat and sweet-

en your mouth, you’ll sing some Andalusian songs for us. (The water vendor serves Preciosilla a glass of water with sugar, and the officer sits down next to the majo). 1ST INHABITANT.

Well, look. Here comes the canon.

onist of Cervantes’s exemplary novel La gitanilla (The little gypsy girl, 1613). 4. Lively music characteristic of the city of Ronda (southeast of

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SCENE 2 CANON.

Good evening, gentlemen.

2ND INHABITANT.

We were afraid we wouldn’t have the

pleasure of seeing Your Grace this afternoon, Father Canon. (Sitting down and mopping his perspiration.) What

CANON.

person of good taste, living in Seville, could fail to come here every summer afternoon to drink this pure, delicious Tomares water, which Tío Paco serves to us with so much care, and to delight for a few moments in this Triana bridge, which is one of the best in the world? 1ST INHABITANT. CANON.

Since the sun’s already setting.l.l.l.

Tío Paco, a glass of cool water.

TÍO PACO.

Your Grace has perspired a great deal. I’ll give it

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to you after you rest a bit. MAJO.

Give His Excellency lukewarm water.

CANON. MAJO.

No, it’s too hot today.

Well, I drank mine lukewarm to soothe my voice

and be able to say the rosary in the Borcinería district,5 because it’s my turn tonight. OFFICER. MAJO.

To soothe your voice a swig of brandy is better.

Brandy’s good to relieve it after having chanted the

litany. OFFICER.

I drink it before and after conducting drills.

Seville), the lyrics of which are usually sung in couplets of octosyllabic verse. 5. Short for Borceguinería, where buskins (borceguíes) were made, a district near the old Jewish quarter. Today it is Calle de Mateos Gago.

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ACT 1

PRECIOSILLA.

(Who has been strumming the guitar, says to the

majo:) So tell me, hotshot, do you expect to chant the litany tonight in front of that person’s balcony? CANON.

Holy things are to be treated in a holy manner. Do

you hear? And how were the bulls yesterday? MAJO.

The mottled bull from Utrera6 gave a good account

of itself. Charged a lot. Too much. 1ST INHABITANT. MAJO.

I imagine it made your blood run cold.

Hold on, my friend, I’m not easily frightened. Here’s

my cape (he points to a long tear), announcing to the world that I didn’t shy away from the beast. 2ND INHABITANT.

The bullfight wasn’t as good as the one be-

fore. PRECIOSILLA.

That’s because Don Álvaro the Indiano7 missed

it. And on horseback or on foot he’s Spain’s best bullCopyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

fighter. MAJO.

It’s true that he’s every inch a man, very hard on

the brutes and utterly fearless. PRECIOSILLA.

And handsome as all get-out.

1ST INHABITANT.

And why do you suppose he didn’t make

an appearance yesterday at the bullring? OFFICER.

He had plenty to do bemoaning the sorry end of

his love affair. MAJO.

Then has the marquis’s daughter sent him packing?

6. A city in the province of Seville that was renowned as the birthplace of bullfighters, in a region equally renowned for its strain of fighting bulls. 7. Don Álvaro is from Indias, that is, Spanish America. The word Indiano identifies one who has made his fortune there and returned, or come, to Spain.

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No. Doña Leonor didn’t send him packing, but

OFFICER.

the marquis has packed her off. 2ND INHABITANT.

What?

1ST INHABITANT.

My friend, the Marquis of Calatrava8 is

much too upper-crust and much too vain to permit a parvenu to be his son-in-law. OFFICER.

And what more could his lordship hope for than

seeing his daughter, who’s starving in spite of all their blue blood, married to a very rich man whose manners proclaim that he’s a gentleman? PRECIOSILLA.

Why, with the nobles of Seville vanity and

poverty are two sides of the same coin! Don Álvaro is worthy of marrying an empress! How gallant he is! And how correct and generous too! A few days ago I told him his fortune—which, to be sure, isn’t a good Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

one if the lines of his palm aren’t lying—and he gave me a one-ounce gold piece the size of the sun at high noon. TÍO PACO.

Every time he comes here to have a drink, he

gives me one of the silver pesetas minted in America. MAJO.

And talk about bravery! When seven of Seville’s

toughest men set upon him that night in the Alameda Vieja, he drew his sword and cornered every one of them against a wall of the equestrian school. OFFICER.

And in the duel that he had with the artillery

captain he conducted himself like a gentleman. 8. Founded in 1158 by Friar Raimundo Serra to defend the district of Calatrava (Castile) against the Moslems, Calatrava is the oldest of Spain’s military-religious orders and a bastion of the nobility.

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ACT 1

PRECIOSILLA.

The Marquis of Calatrava is such a stingy and

doddering old fool, he’d do anything to avoid loosening the purse strings and spending— What Don Álvaro should do is give him a good

OFFICER.

thrashing that— CANON.

Not so fast, Señor. Fathers have a right to marry

their daughters to whomever suits them. And why isn’t Don Álvaro going to suit him? Be-

OFFICER.

cause he wasn’t born in Seville? Gentlemen are also born outside of Seville. CANON.

Gentlemen are also born outside of Seville, that’s

true, but .l.l. is this Don Álvaro a gentleman? We only know that he came here from America two months ago and that he brought two black retainers and a great deal of money. But who is he? Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

1ST INHABITANT.

So many different things are said about

him. 2ND INHABITANT. TÍO PACO.

He’s a very mysterious sort.

The other afternoon there were a few gentlemen

here talking about the same thing, and one of them said that this Don Álvaro came by his riches as a pirate. MAJO.

Good Lord!

TÍO PACO.

And another said that Don Álvaro was the bas-

tard son of a Spanish grandee and a Moorish queen. OFFICER.

What rubbish!

TÍO PACO.

And then they said no, that he was a .l.l. I don’t

remember exactly. A Finca .l.l. or a Brinca .l.l. something like that. Something really big over there in America.

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ACT 1

OFFICER.

Inca? Yes, Señor! That’s it! Inca. Inca.

TÍO PACO. CANON.

11

Hold your tongue, Tío Paco. Don’t spout nonsense.

TÍO PACO.

I’m not spouting anything, and I don’t want to

get into hot water. As far as I’m concerned, we are what we do, and as long as he’s a good Christian and charitable— PRECIOSILLA. OFFICER.

And generous and gallant.

That niggardly old fool of a Marquis of Calatrava

is very wrong to deny him his daughter. The marquis is very right to deny her to him,

CANON.

Señor. The question is simple in the extreme. Don Álvaro arrived two months ago and nobody knows who he is. He has asked for Doña Leonor’s hand in marriage, and the marquis, not considering him a good Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

match for his daughter, has turned him down. It seems that the señorita was rather infatuated, and captivated, and her father has taken her to the country, to the estate that he has in Aljarafe,9 to distract her. In all of which the marquis has acquitted himself like a prudent person. OFFICER. CANON.

And what will Don Álvaro do?

The sensible thing would be for him to find anoth-

er bride, because if he insists on his crazy expectations, he runs the risk of the marquis’s sons coming, one from the university and the other from his regiment, to put an end to his love for Doña Leonor. OFFICER.

I’m very partial to Don Álvaro, even though I’ve

9. On the western side of the Guadalquivir River, a village on the outskirts of Triana.

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never spoken to him in my life, and I would be sorry indeed to see him drawn into an affair of honor with Don Carlos, the marquis’s firstborn son. I saw him in Barcelona last month, and I’ve heard about the last two duels that he had. You don’t want to tangle with him. CANON.

He’s one of the bravest officers in the regiment of

the Spanish Guards, where no one makes light of affairs of honor. 1ST INHABITANT.

Well, Don Alfonso, the marquis’s second

son, is every bit as brave. My cousin, who has just arrived from Salamanca,10 tells me that he’s the scourge of the university, more of a swordsman than a scholar, and that he has the bullies among the charity students there under his thumb. Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

MAJO.

And when did Señorita Leonor leave Seville?

OFFICER.

The marquis took her to his country estate four

days ago, at five o’clock in the morning. After a night of pandemonium in the house. PRECIOSILLA.

The poor girl! How pretty and charming she

is! A terrible fate awaits her. My mother told her her fortune when she was a newborn baby, and whenever she mentions her, tears well up in her eyes. 1ST INHABITANT.

Speaking of the devil. Here comes Don Ál-

varo. 10. The University of Salamanca is one of the oldest in Europe. It was founded circa 1230 by Alfonso IX of León and soon rivaled those of Paris and Oxford. Among its more famous professors were Fray Luis de León (1527–1591), who held a chair in theology, and, in our times,

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SCENE 3

Night begins to fall and the theater gradually darkens. Don Álvaro appears. Wrapped in a silk cape, and wearing a widebrimmed white hat, boots, and spurs, he slowly crosses the stage, glancing all around in a dignified and melancholy manner, and exits by the bridge. Everybody observes him in total silence.

SCENE 4 MAJO.

I wonder where he’s going at this hour.

CANON.

To get some fresh air at the Altozano11 in Triana.

TÍO PACO. OFFICER.

May God go with him.

I say he’s going to Aljarafe.

TÍO PACO.

I don’t know, but since I’m always here, night

and day, I’m a vigilant lookout, watching as I do Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

everything that goes across the bridge. And for three days now one of his black servants has been going across it in the middle of the afternoon, leading two horses by the hand and heading in that direction, and Don Álvaro passes by now, at this hour. Then he comes back across at five o’clock in the morning, always on foot, and around a half hour later the black follows him with the same horses, but covered with dust and sweat.

Miguel de Unamuno (1864–1936), who was professor of Greek as well as rector of the university. 11. A square on the Triana side of the bridge described in the stage directions for Act 1.

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ACT 1

What do you mean? What are you saying, Tío

CANON.

Paco? TÍO PACO.

Me? Nothing. I’m only saying what I’ve seen,

and this afternoon the black has already gone across, and not leading two horses, but three. 1ST INHABITANT.

As for crossing the bridge at this hour and

going in that direction, I’ve seen Don Álvaro three afternoons in a row now. MAJO.

And yesterday I saw the black leaving Triana with

the horses. 2ND INHABITANT.

And last night I was coming from San

Juan de Alfarache 12 when I stopped in the middle of the olive grove to tighten my horse’s cinches, and, like a soul possessed of the devil, Don Álvaro rode by at a gallop without seeing me, and on his heels came the Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

black servant. I recognized them by the dapple-gray mare, which you can’t miss. How the sparks flew from the shoes! CANON.

(Getting up and saying in an aside:) Upon my word!

The marquis has to be warned. OFFICER.

I’d be glad if our Señorita Leonor eloped one of

these nights with her lover and left the old man tearing his hair out. CANON.

Good evening, gentlemen. I’m off because it’s get-

ting late. (Leaving and saying in an aside:) I’d be remiss in my friendship if I didn’t warn the marquis at once that Don Álvaro is lurking about his estate. Perhaps we can prevent a tragedy. 12. A small town not far from Triana.

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SCENE 5

The stage reproduces a large room whose walls are covered with damask, and on which hang family portraits, coats of arms, and sundry decorations in vogue in the eighteenth century, but all of it deteriorated; and there are two balconies, one closed and the other open and practicable, through which are seen the tops of several trees and a clear, moonlit sky. In the middle stands a damask-covered table, and on it are a guitar, several Chinese vases with flowers, and two silver candlesticks with candles in them, which provide the only lighting on the stage. Next to the table is an armchair. The Marquis of Calatrava enters from the left with a palmatoria13 in his hand, and behind him comes Doña Leonor, while the maid enters from the right. MARQUIS.

(Embracing and kissing his daughter.)

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Good night, my daughter; may heaven bless you. Good-bye, my love, my consolation, my hope, my joy. You cannot say that your father is not gallant. I would not rest in peace if I did not light the way here for you every night. These balconies are open (He closes them.) and the chilly night air is coming in. Leonor .l.l. Does your love say nothing to me? Why do you look so sad?

13. Also called a bugia: a low candlestick with a short handle.

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DOÑA LEONOR.

ACT 1

(Downcast and distressed.) Good night, Father.

MARQUIS.

When the cold weather sets in, at Christmastime, we will return to the city. And then we will be joined by our student and also our captain. We shall see that permission is given to both. Are you not anxious to embrace them?

DOÑA LEONOR.

Yes, of course! What more could I wish?

MARQUIS.

The two will be granted leave. Both are openhanded, a trait that speaks well for them, and Carlos will bring you a valuable present

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from Barcelona and Alfonso one from Salamanca. Write to them, silly, and ask them for whatever cannot be found in Seville, and they will bring it to you. DOÑA LEONOR.

It would be better left to their refined taste.

MARQUIS.

That they have in large measure. As you wish, Leonor.

CURRA.

If I was given carte blanche like you, Señorita, I would ask Don Carlos for a pretty robe from France. And a chain with a diamond brooch from Don Alfonso, who will find a good one in Madrid.

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ACT 1

MARQUIS.

Whatever you wish, my daughter. You know you are your father’s Idol.l.l.l. Do you not love me? (He embraces and kisses her tenderly.)

DOÑA LEONOR.

(Troubled.) Father! My lord!

MARQUIS.

Be happy once again, my sweet. Remember that I am your father, and that I am constantly looking out for your good. Regain your calm, my dear child. In truth, since our arrival here I have been happy with you. I see peace and quiet being restored in your heart with life in the country, and I am well pleased with you,

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very well pleased, my dear daughter. I have already forgotten everything. You are an obedient girl, and I shall be diligent in arranging a suitable marriage for you. Yes, my pet. Can anyone know better what is in your interest than a tender father who loves you to distraction? DOÑA LEONOR.

(Throwing herself disconsolately into her father’s arms.) My beloved father! My dearest father!

MARQUIS.

There now! What troubles you so? (Very tenderly.) I adore you, Leonor. Do not cry. What foolishness it is!

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18

ACT 1

DOÑA LEONOR.

Father! Father!

MARQUIS.

(Caressing her and detaching himself from her arms.) Good night, my dear. Go to bed now and let us not cry. May the good Lord bless your effusive love. (The marquis leaves, and a visibly distressed and tearful Leonor sits in the armchair.)

SCENE 6

Curra follows the marquis, closes the door behind him, and comes back to Leonor. CURRA.

Thank heaven! I was afraid that

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everything would fall through and that Señor would stay here until morning. How readily he closed the balcony! His heart told him that we are going to fly the coop. So. The first thing is to open it (She opens it.), and the second is to pack the suitcases. Let me take them out. (Curra removes several suitcases and clothes from a nook and goes about packing without Leonor taking any notice.) DOÑA LEONOR.

Oh, how wretched I am! Heavens, why should a loving father, who worries about me and devotes himself to me, be so adamantly opposed to my being

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ACT 1

19

happy and contented? Oh, it breaks my heart! How can someone who loves me so much be so cruel? A kinder fate would await me if my mother were still alive. CURRA.

If Señora were still alive? You’re delirious. She was more vain than Señor; Señor, after all, is an angel. But her! With her quick temper and haughty airs .l.l. God help us. The nobles of this land are like peas in a pod. And if a young lady finds a young man who suits her, well, unless he comes wrapped in a pedigree chart they shriek to high heavens. But what does that matter when there’s resolve? Let’s not waste time. Come,

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come and help me because I can’t manage alone. DOÑA LEONOR.

Oh, Curra! If you knew the state my spirit is in. I lack the strength to even get up from this chair. Curra, my friend, I can’t make up my mind, I admit it. Don’t be surprised. It’s impossible, impossible. Oh, my father! His loving words, his solicitous ways, his anxieties, his kisses, and his embraces were sharp daggers that pierced my heart. If he had stayed another moment I would not have resisted any longer. I was

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ACT 1

about to throw myself at his feet, and, confused and terrified, reveal my plan to him and then die, longing for his forgiveness. CURRA.

Well, we’d have been in a pretty pickle if you had. Tomorrow you’d see the proud, lovesick, and noble Don Álvaro rolling in his own blood, with his brains blown out. Or tied up like a a common criminal and dragged through the olive groves here to the jail in Seville. And maybe, maybe on the gallows by Christmastime.

DOÑA LEONOR.

Oh, Curra! You’re breaking my heart!

CURRA.

And all this, Señorita, because the

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poor devil had the great misfortune to see you and, like a fool, to fall in love with you, someone who neither responds in kind nor has enough resolve to— DOÑA LEONOR.

No, Curra, stop! Don’t make me anguish. How can you say I do not return his love? You know I do. For him I am going to forsake my home and family, my brothers and my father, and alone—

CURRA.

Not alone, because I’m somebody, and Antonio’s also going, and we’ll never leave you, not here, not anywhere. God forbid!

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ACT 1

DOÑA LEONOR.

And tomorrow?

CURRA.

Tomorrow will be a grand day. You

21

become the adored wife of the most adorable, wealthy, and handsome gentleman to be found in the world, and I become Antonio’s wife. And together we’ll go see very distant lands. How exciting! DOÑA LEONOR.

And my aged and loving father?

CURRA.

Who? Señor? He’ll be furious a while, he’ll stamp with rage, he’ll relate the incident chapter and verse to the captain general; he’ll annoy the magistrate, and also his friends the canon, the judge, and the old boys at

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the equestrian society. A thousand requisitions will be issued to search for us, but in vain because we’ll be safe and sound in Flanders. You’ll write from there and Señor will begin to relent, and in nine months time, when he knows there’s an infant who has his very same eyes, he’ll find consolation. And with us speaking such incomprehensible Flemish that no one will understand us, we’ll return shortly afterward, to be received with great rejoicing, and everything will be banquets and balls. DOÑA LEONOR.

And my beloved brothers?

CURRA.

Them? Why, when they can grab hold

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22

ACT 1

of a generous brother-in-law, the one for coin to show off colorful uniforms and conquer lovely ladies, and the other for worthless books, lavish feasts, and rascally .

cronies, they’ll burst with joy. DOÑA LEONOR.

No blood runs in your veins. Good Lord, the things you say!

CURRA.

I only speak the truth.

DOÑA LEONOR.

Oh, how wretched I am!

CURRA.

Very wretched, surely, to be put on a pedestal and worshiped by the best of suitors. But come, Señorita, help me because it’s getting late.

DOÑA LEONOR.

Yes, it is late, and Don Álvaro tarries. Oh, if he didn’t come tonight .l.l.l! If

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only .l.l.l! Good heavens! If he had never set foot in this house, how much better it would be. I do not have firm enough resolve, I know. It’s so hard to leave my home like this .l.l. and so sad! (She glances at the clock and continues to be anxious.) It’s past twelve. How late, Curra! No, he’s not coming. Do you suppose some misfortune has befallen him in the olive groves? There are always such bad people in Aljarafe. And will Antonio be on the alert? CURRA.

I’ve no doubt that he’s on guard.

DOÑA LEONOR.

(Greatly startled.) Curra, what was that sound? Did you hear it?

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ACT 1

CURRA.

Horses’ hoofbeats.

DOÑA LEONOR.

(She runs to the balcony.) Oh, it’s him!

CURRA.

It was impossible for him not to come.

DOÑA LEONOR.

(Very agitated.) Oh, dear God!

CURRA.

Take heart and stand firm.

23

SCENE 7

Don Álvaro, without a cape, in a short, full-sleeved jacket over a smart waistcoat, hairnet, buckskin breeches, etc., enters through the balcony and rushes into Leonor’s arms. DON ÁLVARO.

(Impassioned.) My precious angel, my consolation! Are the holy heavens about to crown my tribulations for all time? I’m

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bursting with joy. Do we embrace to be separated never again? Sooner death, yes, death, than be separated from you and lose you. DOÑA LEONOR.

(Greatly agitated.) Don Álvaro!

DON ÁLVARO.

My darling, my idol, my all, what disturbs and distresses you so? Does it trouble your heart to look at your lover at this moment and see him more radiant than the sun with joy? Oh, my treasure!

DOÑA LEONOR.

It was getting so late.l.l.l.

DON ÁLVARO.

Were you upset that I was long in coming? I am not to blame for the delay, my sweet. I waited nearby in despair for over an hour,

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ACT 1

watching for the chance to approach, and I was beginning to fear that the tyranny of my unlucky star would today defeat my hope. But no, my darling, my glory, my consolation. Divine Providence protects our love and assures us an eternal course of happiness. Let us hurry and not waste time. Is everything ready? CURRA.

Yes. Our lookout Antonio stands beneath the balcony waiting for the suitcases. I’ll drop them at once. (She moves toward the balcony.)

DOÑA LEONOR.

(Resolute.) Curra, wait, stop. Oh, God above! Would it not be better, Don Álvaro—?

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DON ÁLVARO.

What, my precious? Why waste time? The dapple-gray horse that, as you say, graces the fields, the one you like so much for its obedience and spirit, awaits you already saddled, my darling. For Curra there’s the piebald and for me the fierce and magnificent sorrel. Oh, I’m delirious with love and joy! I’ve left everything prepared with great secrecy in San Juan de Alfarache. The priest is waiting at the altar. God will bless us from heaven, and when the new sun, protector of my sovereign line and eternal deity of the Americas, rises in

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ACT 1

25

the east to display the regal pomp of its throne as the monarch of light and father of day, I will be your husband and you will be my wife. DOÑA LEONOR.

It’s so late.l.l.l. Don Álvaro!

DON ÁLVARO.

(To Curra:) What’s holding you up, girl? Hurry now. Drop those suitcases from the balcony, then—

DOÑA LEONOR.

(Beside herself.) Curra, Curra, stop! Don Álvaro!

DON ÁLVARO.

Leonor!!

DOÑA LEONOR.

I beg you. Leave it until tomorrow!

DON ÁLVARO.

What?

DOÑA LEONOR.

We can more easily—

DON ÁLVARO.

(Distressed and confused.) What’s this,

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Leonor? What’s wrong? Resolve deserts you now? Oh, how wretched I am! DOÑA LEONOR.

Don Álvaro! Don Álvaro!

DON ÁLVARO.

Señora!

DOÑA LEONOR.

Oh, you’re breaking my heart!

DON ÁLVARO.

And mine is already broken! Where is your love? Where is your solemn promise? So much indecision at such a moment ill suits your word. The change is so sudden that I do not know you, Leonor. Is all my hope for boundless joy gone with the wind? Yes, I find myself blinded at the very moment the sunniest of days was about to dawn. I

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ACT 1

shall be carried out of here as a dead man when I thought I would leave as an immortal. Deceitful sorceress, thus do you undo the glorious prospect that you so treacherously held out to me? Perfidious woman! Do you take pleasure in raising me to the throne of the Eternal only to plunge me into the depths of hell? It only remains for me to— DOÑA LEONOR.

(Throwing herself into his arms.) No, no, I adore you. Don Álvaro! My love! Let us go, oh yes, let us go!

DON ÁLVARO.

Oh, my Leonor!

CURRA.

Let’s not waste time.

DON ÁLVARO.

My love, my treasure! (Doña Leonor, very downcast, leans on Don Álvaro’s shoulder as

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though on the verge of fainting.) But, what is this? Woe is me! Your hand feels stiff, like the hand of a dead woman. And your face is as cold as the gravestone of a frozen sepulcher. DOÑA LEONOR.

Don Álvaro!

DON ÁLVARO.

Leonor! (Pause.) There’s enough strength in me for everything, wretch that I am. I know the turmoil that oppresses you, my innocent Leonor. May God not permit you to follow me and be my wife on account of weakness in a moment such as this. I release you from your word and your solemn promise, because the nuptial torches would become

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27

candles of death for both of us. If you do not love me as I love you, if you regret— My sweet husband, your Leonor is yours

DOÑA LEONOR.

in body and soul. I rest my happiness on following you even to the four corners of the earth. Let us go. I am determined. I have sealed my fate. Only death will be able to separate us. (They move toward the balcony when all of a sudden they hear barking and the opening and closing of doors.) DOÑA LEONOR.

My God! What is all that noise? Don Ál-

varo! CURRA.

It sounds as if the courtyard door has been opened

.l.l. and the one to the staircase too. DOÑA LEONOR.

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CURRA.

Could my father have fallen ill?

What? No, Señorita, the noise is coming from

somewhere else. DOÑA LEONOR. DON ÁLVARO.

Could one of my brothers have arrived?

Come, Leonor, let us go. We haven’t a mo-

ment to waste. (They move toward the balcony and all of a sudden see the blaze of pitch torches and hear the galloping of horses.) DOÑA LEONOR.

We’re lost! We’ve been discovered! Flight is

impossible. DON ÁLVARO. CURRA.

We need to remain calm in any event.

May Our Lady of the Rosary and the souls in pur-

gatory keep us! But .l.l. Antonio .l.l. what’s happened to my poor Antonio? (She leans out of the balcony and shouts.) Antonio! Antonio!

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ACT 1

DON ÁLVARO.

Quiet, you foolish girl! Don’t call attention to

this apartment. And close the balcony halfway. (The sound of doors and footsteps grows louder.) DOÑA LEONOR.

Oh, how wretched I am! Don Álvaro, hide.

Here, in my bedroom. DON ÁLVARO.

(Resolute.) No, I will not hide. I will not aban-

don you with a storm brewing. (He draws a pistol.) My duty is to defend you and save you. DOÑA LEONOR.

(Panic-stricken.) What’re you doing? Oh, put

that pistol away! It makes my blood run cold. For God’s sake, set it down! Would you fire it at my loving father? At one of my brothers? To kill one of the faithful old servants of this house? DON ÁLVARO.

(Deeply confused.) No, no, my love. I’ll use it to

put an end to my ill-starred life. Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

DOÑA LEONOR.

How horrible! Don Álvaro!

SCENE 8

After several loud raps, the door opens noisily and the marquis enters, in a robe and a nightcap, with a drawn rapier in his hand, followed by two elderly servants. MARQUIS.

(Furious.) Despicable seducer! Infamous daugh-

ter! DOÑA LEONOR.

(Throwing herself at her father’s feet.) Father!

Father! MARQUIS.

I am not your father! Away with you! And you,

you despicable upstart!

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ACT 1

DON ÁLVARO.

29

Your daughter is innocent. I’m the guilty one.

Run me through with your rapier. (He goes down on one knee.) MARQUIS.

Your abject submission betrays your lowly ori-

gin. DON ÁLVARO. MARQUIS.

(Springing up.) Marquis! Marquis!

(To his daughter:) Get away from me, you wicked

woman. (To Curra, who has taken hold of his arm:) And you, you poor devil, you dare to touch your Señor? (To the servants:) Fall on the blackguard, seize him and bind him! DON ÁLVARO.

(With dignity.) Woe betide the man who lays

his hands on me. (He takes out a pistol and cocks it.) DOÑA LEONOR.

(Running toward Don Álvaro.) Don Álvaro!

What’re you going to do? Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

MARQUIS.

Seize him at once.

DON ÁLVARO.

If your servants move, they’ll be sorry! Only

you have the right to run me through. MARQUIS.

You? Die at the hands of a gentleman? No. You

will die at the hands of the executioner. DON ÁLVARO.

Marquis of Calatrava! But, ah, no! You have a

right to anything. Your daughter is innocent. As pure as the breath of the angels who surround the throne of the Most High. Let my death bring to an end the suspicion that may arise from my presence here at such an hour; let this suspicion go away, wrapped around my corpse as if it were my shroud. Yes, I should die .l.l. but at your hands. (He goes down on one knee.) I await the blow with resignation; I will not re-

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ACT 1

sist it; I am now disarmed. (He tosses the pistol, which, when it hits the floor, goes off and wounds the marquis, who cries out and falls, in extremis, into the arms of his daughter and servants.) MARQUIS.

I’m dying. Woe is me!

DON ÁLVARO.

Good God! Fateful weapon! Dreadful night!

DOÑA LEONOR. MARQUIS.

Father, Father!

Away with you! Take me out of here .l.l. where I

can die without this despicable woman debasing me with such a name. DOÑA LEONOR. MARQUIS.

Father!

A curse on you!

(Leonor collapses into the arms of Don Álvaro, who carries her

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toward the balcony.)

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AC T 2

o] The action takes place in and around the town of Hornachuelos SCENE 1

It is nighttime. The stage reproduces the kitchen of an inn in the town of Hornachuelos.1 In the foreground are the hearth and fireplace. On the left is the entry door, and on the right two practicable doors. On one side there is a long pine table, surrounded by rustic chairs, everything illuminated by one big oil lamp. The innkeeper and the mayor are seated by the fire, looking very grave; the innkeeper’s wife, on her knees, is cooking. Near the Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

table, the student is singing and playing the guitar. The muleteer who will speak is sifting barley in the background. Tío Trabuco is stretched out downstage on his packsaddles. Two young men and two young women from the town, the servant girl, and one of the muleteers, who does not speak, are dancing seguidillas.2 The second nonspeaking muleteer is seated next to the student and encouraging the dancers with his hand-clapping. On the table are a wineskin, a flask of brandy, and some glasses.

1. A small town twenty-four miles southwest of Córdoba. 2. A Spanish dance in triple measure, often done to the accompaniment of castanets and guitar.

31

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ACT 2

STUDENT.

(Singing in a loud voice to the sound of the guitar, as

the three couples dance with great animation.) Shower your affection on students, who are as grateful as they are discreet. Long live Hornachuelos, long live the black eyes of its lasses. Stay away from soldiers, a mischievous lot who turn tail as soon as they gain their ends. Long live Hornachuelos, long live the black Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

eyes of its lasses. INNKEEPER’S WIFE.

(Setting a skillet on the table.) Come on,

shake a leg. It’s getting cold. (To the servant:) Pepa, get cracking. MULETEER. STUDENT.

(The one sifting barley.) Another ballad.

(Putting the guitar down.) Nothing doing. Before

anything else, supper. INNKEEPER’S WIFE.

And afterward, if people want to con-

tinue dancing and making a racket, let them go out to the courtyard or the street, since there’s a moon as clear as day. And leave the inn quiet, because if some want to make merry, others want to sleep. Pepa, Pepa, haven’t I said enough of that dancing already? TÍO TRABUCO.

(Lying on his packsaddles.) You’re right, Tía Co-

lasa. For my part, I want to sleep.

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ACT 2

INNKEEPER.

33

Yes, that’s enough noise. Let’s have supper. If

the mayor would be so kind as to say grace and break bread with us. MAYOR.

My thanks, Señor Monipodio.

INNKEEPER’S WIFE. MAYOR.

But come closer, Your Honor.

Let our scholar say grace.

STUDENT.

Happy to oblige, and I’ll be brief because the cod

smells divine. In nomine Patri et Filii et Spiritu Sancto. ALL.

Amen. (They all sit around the table except Tío Trabuco.)

INNKEEPER’S WIFE.

The tomatoes may not be thoroughly

cooked, and the rice may be a touch hard .l.l. but with so much commotion it’s impossible. MULETEER. STUDENT.

It’s saying “Eat me, eat me.”

(Eating heartily.) It’s exquisite .l.l. delightful. Tastes

like ambrosia.3 Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

INNKEEPER’S WIFE.

Just a minute, my learned friend. Tía

Ambrosia doesn’t outdo me when it comes to cooking, and in fact doesn’t hold a candle to me. MULETEER. INNKEEPER.

Tía Ambrosia’s dirtier than a pig. Tía Ambrosia’s a slovenly woman, a rag for

swatting flies. It turns your stomach to walk into her inn, and comparing her to my Colasa isn’t right. STUDENT.

I do indeed know that Señora Colasa is immacu-

late, and I meant nothing by it. MAYOR.

In the entire district of Hornachuelos there’s no

3. The Spanish word for “ambrosia” is ambrosía, with an acute accent mark on the i. The innkeepers hear Ambrosia—with no accent mark, a [woman’s] proper name—and believe that Tía Colasa is being unfavorably compared to her.

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ACT 2

person cleaner than Señora Colasa, no inn like Señor Monipodio’s. INNKEEPER’S WIFE.

And I’ll have you know that all the wed-

ding banquets here go through these very hands that in the end will turn to dust. And I mean high-class weddings too, my learned friend. When the notary married the alderman’s daughter— STUDENT.

So one can say to Señora Colasa, Tu das mihi

epulis accumbere divum.4 INNKEEPER’S WIFE.

I don’t know Latin, but I know how to

cook. Will Your Honor not even have a bit of soup? MAYOR.

So as not to be rude, I’ll have some gazpacho—if

there is any. INNKEEPER.

What do you mean “if there is any”?

INNKEEPER’S WIFE.

How could there not be any with me in

Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

the kitchen? Pepa! (To the servant girl:) Bring it in. It’s been cooling on the curb of the well since midafternoon. (The girl leaves.) STUDENT.

(To the muleteer who is lying down:) Tío Trabuco, I

say, Tío Trabuco? Aren’t you going to join us? TÍO TRABUCO. STUDENT.

TÍO TRABUCO. STUDENT.

I’m not having supper.

Are you fasting? Yes, Señor, because it’s Friday.

One little drink.

TÍO TRABUCO.

All right. (The innkeeper hands him the wineskin

and Tío Trabuco takes a swig.) Ugh! This is nothing but 4. “You give me a place at the banquet of the gods” (adapted from Virgil’s Aeneid, 1.79).

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ACT 2

35

dregs. Tío Monipodio, give me the brandy so I can rinse my mouth. (He takes a drink and curls up again on his packsaddles.) (The servant girl returns with a tureen of gazpacho.) SERVANT GIRL. ALL.

Here is God’s goodness.

Let us have some.

STUDENT.

It appears, Your Honor, that there are numerous

strangers in Hornachuelos tonight. MULETEER. MAYOR.

The three inns are full.

Since it’s the Porziuncula jubilee,5 and the Mona-

stery of San Francisco de los Ángeles, which stands in the wilderness a half mile from here, is so famous .l.l. a lot of people come to go to confession to Father Superior, who’s a servant of God. INNKEEPER’S WIFE.

Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

INNKEEPER.

He’s a saint.

(He takes the wineskin and stands up.) To our Lord,

for the good company, and may God grant us health and wealth in this life and glory in the next. (He drinks.) ALL.

Amen. (The wineskin is passed from one person to another.)

STUDENT.

(After drinking.) Tío Trabuco, Tío Trabuco, are you

asleep in the land of angels? TÍO TRABUCO.

With these confounded fleas and your loud

talk, how can I be anything but awake in the land of devils? STUDENT.

Tío Trabuco, we were wondering if that delicate

person who arrived with you, and who has hidden from us, came for the jubilee indulgence. 5. A feast that falls on August 2nd, when a visitor to any Franciscan monastery is granted a plenary indulgence.

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ACT 2

TÍO TRABUCO.

I never question the people who travel with

me. STUDENT.

But .l.l. do we have a goose or a gander?

TÍO TRABUCO.

I only look at my travelers’ money, which is

neither male nor female. STUDENT.

Yes, it’s epicene. Hermaphrodite, so to speak. But

I see that you are very taciturn, Tío Trabuco. TÍO TRABUCO.

I never waste my breath on what doesn’t

concern me. And good night, because my tongue’s beginning to doze off, and I want it to get some sleep. So let’s have quiet. STUDENT.

Well, sir, you can’t put one over on Tío Trabuco.

(To the innkeeper’s wife:) Tell me, Señora Colasa, why hasn’t this young gentleman come to eat supper? INNKEEPER’S WIFE.

Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

STUDENT.

I don’t know.

But is it a man or a woman?

INNKEEPER’S WIFE.

Whatever the gender, the fact is I saw

this person’s face. For as much as he tried to hide it when dismounting from the mule, if indeed we are talking about a “young gentleman,” it’s as pretty as a picture, and at that his eyes, streaked from tears and dust, made you feel sorry for him. STUDENT.

You don’t say!

INNKEEPER’S WIFE.

Yes, Señor, and as soon as he went in

that room, always keeping his back to me, he asked how far the Monastery of Los Ángeles was from here, and I pointed it out to him from the window, and since it’s so close you can see it clearly, and— STUDENT.

Well, I’ll be! So he’s a sinner come to the jubilee.

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ACT 2

INNKEEPER’S WIFE.

37

I don’t know. Then he went to bed, I

mean, he lay down on it fully dressed, after first drinking a glass of water with a few drops of vinegar. STUDENT.

Of course. To refresh his body.

INNKEEPER’S WIFE.

And he told me that he didn’t want a

light or supper. Nothing. When I left, it sounded like he was mumbling the rosary. I think this person is very— INNKEEPER.

Yak, yak, yak. Who in the devil has given you

permission to talk about the guests? You’re running off at the mouth. INNKEEPER’S WIFE. STUDENT.

Yes, Señora Colasa, tell me—

INNKEEPER. STUDENT.

Since the licentiate6 wanted to know—

(To his wife:) Shush now!

Well, sir, let’s have another go at Tío Trabuco. Tío

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Trabuco, Tío Trabuco. (He appoaches him and wakes him.) TÍO TRABUCO. STUDENT.

Confound it! Will you leave me alone?

Come on, tell me, how did that person ride the

mule, sidesaddle or astride? TÍO TRABUCO. STUDENT.

Oh, what a bore! On his head!

And tell me, did you leave from Posadas or Pal-

ma7 this morning? TÍO TRABUCO.

I know only that sooner or later I’m going to

heaven. STUDENT.

Why?

6. A European degree that would rank below a doctorate. 7. Towns in the province of Córdoba; the former is on the way from Hornachuelos to Córdoba, the latter is on the way from Hornachuelos to Seville.

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ACT 2

TÍO TRABUCO.

Because on account of you I’m already in

purgatory. STUDENT.

(Laughing.) Ha, ha, ha! And are you going to Ex-

tremadura? 8 TÍO TRABUCO.

(He gets up, gathers his packsaddles, and, very

irked, leaves with them.) No, Señor, I’m going to the stable, fleeing from you, to sleep with my mules, who don’t know Latin and are not university graduates. STUDENT.

(He laughs.) Ha, ha, ha! He did get irritated. So,

Pepa, you charming thing! You’ve seen this person who’s in hiding, haven’t you? SERVANT GIRL. STUDENT.

From the back.

And what room is he in?

SERVANT GIRL.

(She points to the first door on the right.) That

one. Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

STUDENT.

Well, since he’s smooth-faced, let’s paint a mus-

tache on him with soot. And when he wakes up in the morning, we’ll have a little fun. (He blackens his fingers and heads toward the room.) SOME CHARACTERS. INNKEEPER. MAYOR.

Yes, yes.

No, no.

(Gravely.) I will not allow you to do such a thing,

my learned friend, because it is my duty to protect the strangers who come to this town and administer justice to them as I do to the people who live here. STUDENT. MAYOR.

I didn’t mean to make a fuss.

Well, I did. And it wouldn’t be a bad idea to know

8. Province in west central Spain.

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who you are, Señor, and where you come from and where you’re going, inasmuch as you seem somewhat harebrained. STUDENT.

Whether the law questions me in earnest or in

jest, I have no objection to answering, because I’m not trying to pull the wool over anybody’s eyes here. I am called Pereda and hold a licentiate in utroque9 from the University of Salamanca, where I have been studying for eight years, honorably and not without distinction, even though I’m poor. I left there more than a year ago in the company of my friend and patron, the licentiate Vargas, and we went to Seville to avenge the death of his father, the Marquis of Calatrava, and to ascertain the whereabouts of his sister, who escaped with the killer. We spent several months there with his Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

brother, the current marquis, who is an officer in the Spanish Guards. And since they failed to gain their ends, they separated, swearing revenge. And the licentiate and I journeyed to Córdoba, where, they were told, the sister was. But we didn’t find her either, although we did learn that she had died in the melee that broke out the night of her father’s death, when the old marquis’s servants scuffled with those of the abductor and murderer, and that the latter had gone back to America. So we traveled to Cádiz, where my patron, the licentiate Vargas, sailed for those shores to track down the enemy of his family. And I am return9. In both civil and canon law.

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ACT 2

ing to my university to make up the lost time and to continue my studies, by virtue of which I may one day become, God willing, governor of the Council of Ministers or archbishop of Seville. MAYOR.

You put on airs, licentiate Pereda, but enough al-

ready. It is evident from your bearing and clear explanation that you are an upright man who’s telling the truth. INNKEEPER’S WIFE.

Tell me, my learned friend, that marquis

was killed? STUDENT.

Yes.

INNKEEPER’S WIFE.

And his daughter’s lover killed him and

then made off with her? Tell us that story, Señor, please do. It’s bound to be entertaining. INNKEEPER.

Who asked you to pry into the lives of others?

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Confound your curiosity! Seeing as how we’ve had supper, let’s give thanks to God and retire. (They all stand up and remove their hats, as though in prayer.) Good night. Every bird to its roost. MAYOR.

Good night, and let there be prudence and silence.

STUDENT.

Well, I’m going to my room. (He is about to slip into

the unknown traveler’s room.) INNKEEPER. STUDENT.

Whoa! Not that one. Yours is further on.

I got confused.

(The mayor and townspeople leave; the student enters his room; the servant girl, the muleteer, and the innkeeper’s wife move back the table and chairs, leaving the stage cleared. Complete silence ensues and the innkeeper goes over to the fireplace, where he and his wife are alone.)

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SCENE 2 INNKEEPER.

Colasa, in order to thrive in our business it is essential that there be calm in the inn and that no one be inconvenienced. We should never presume to pry into who the guests are, nor engage in conversation with all those who come here, just serve well, say “Yes” or “No,” take in the silver, and not utter a word.

INNKEEPER’S WIFE.

You’re not saying this on my account. You know full well I can keep my lips sealed. I only

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asked the student— INNKEEPER.

—what was no concern of yours.

INNKEEPER’S WIFE.

You’ll also wonder now, my husband, why I’m entering that room to see if our guest needs anything, and it’s because I’ve known that this is a woman in distress. (The innkeeper’s wife takes a small oil lamp and very cautiously enters the room.)

INNKEEPER.

Enter, because it’s only reasonable, although in truth I fear you do so more out of curiosity than compassion.

INNKEEPER’S WIFE.

(Coming out very alarmed.) Goodness gracious! I’m aghast. The lady has disappeared. I found nobody in the bed and the window’s open.

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INNKEEPER.

What? How so? Oh, I know. The window gives onto the countryside, and since it’s so low she left without any difficulty. (Walking toward the room that his wife entered and stopping at the doorway.) Let’s hope that she didn’t make off with the new bedspread.

INNKEEPER’S WIFE.

(Inside.) No, everything’s here. The poor woman! She even left money. Yes, there’s a duro on the table.

INNKEEPER.

Then may she go in peace.

INNKEEPER’S WIFE.

(Coming on stage.) There’s no doubt. It’s a woman who finds

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herself in terrible trouble. INNKEEPER.

May God keep her from harm, and let us go to bed, and not say a word about this tomorrow. Put a few coins in the poor box, my wife, but put that duro right here in my pocket.

SCENE 3

The stage reproduces a setting on the slope of a rugged mountain. On the left are precipices and cliffs. In the foreground a deep valley is traversed by a brook on whose bank is seen, in the distance and against a backdrop of tall mountains, the town of Hor-

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nachuelos. On the right is the façade of the Monastery of Los Ángeles, of poor and modest architecture. The church’s big door, closed but practicable, has a fanlight above it that radiates the brightness of the lights on the inside. Nearer the apron is the porter’s door, also closed and practicable, and in the middle of it is a peephole that opens and closes alongside a bell cord. In the center of the stage, and anchored on four steps that can be used as a sitting area, is a large cross of hewn stone worn away by time. The entire setting is illuminated by a bright moon. Strains of the organ and a choir of monks singing Matins10 are heard from inside the church, when Doña Leonor comes out on stage from the left as though having made a climb. She looks haggard and is dressed like a man in a long-sleeved overcoat, hat with a turneddown brim, and boots.

Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

DOÑA LEONOR.

I’m ready to drop. But at last I am here, dear God, and I give you thanks (She kneels upon seeing the monastery.) I trust in you, most Holy Virgin; be the refuge of my bitter life. This sanctuary is the only one I can have in the whole wide world. The sole asylum and haven left to me on earth are the arid crags of this mountain. I am here .l.l. but I still tremble and quail? (She looks back at the route she took.) Ah! Nobody

10. Also called Morning Prayer, the first of the seven canonical hours; it includes psalms and scriptural readings.

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has followed me nor has my hasty flight been noticed. I wasn’t mistaken. I heard my horrendous story being told at the inn. And who in God’s name could have been the one telling it? How wretched I am! He said he was a friend of my brothers. Oh heavens above! Am I going to be found out? I’m scared to death and exhausted. (She sits down.) What rough land! What a beautiful, clear moon! The same one that a year ago saw the awful change in my fortune and saw hell open up to consume me. Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

(Long pause.) It wasn’t an illusion. The one who was talking about me said that Don Álvaro had sailed away, searching anew for the remote climes of the West. Oh God! Can it be so? May he reach port safely in his native land. (Pause.) And he didn’t die that ill-fated night when I .l.l. I, stained with my father’s unfortunate blood, followed him .l.l. lost him? And the cruel-hearted man flees? And the ingrate flees? Flees and abandons me? (She falls to her knees.) Oh Holy Mother of Mercy! Forgive me, forgive me, I’ve forgotten

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him. My resolution is firm, yes, it is! God of goodness, I will atone for the frenzy of my passions through austere penance, in this wilderness far from the world. Mercy, mercy, Lord: do not forsake me! (She falls silent as though in deep meditation, reclining on the steps of the cross, and after a long pause continues.) The sublime voices of that choir of blessed monks and the measured strains of the sonorous organ, which rise like a vaporous cloud of incense to the holy throne of the Eternal, diffuse the sweet balm of Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

consolation and calm through my soul. (She stands, firm in her resolve.) So why do I linger? I’ll hurry to the peaceful .l.l. I’ll hurry to the sacred asylum. (She moves toward the monastery and stops.) But how .l.l. at this hour? Oh! I cannot put it off any longer. Being here alone has me petrified with fear. In that village there’s someone who knows my story. It’s very possible they’ll learn who I am by dawn. This saintly prelate here has been informed of my misfortunes and my resolution. I fear nothing. A number of days ago my confessor in Córdoba wrote to him at

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ACT 2

length about my adversity. I know how truly benevolent he is; he will welcome me with kindness. Why, then, do I hesitate? Why do I hesitate? Be my shield, oh most Holy Virgin! (She reaches the porter’s door and pulls the bell cord.)

SCENE 4

The peephole in the door opens, and light from a lantern suddenly shines on the face of Doña Leonor, who shies away as though frightened. Brother Melitón speaks from inside during

Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

this entire scene. BRO. MELITÓN.

Who is it?

DOÑA LEONOR.

A person who’s very, very interested in see-

ing Reverend Father Superior at once. BRO. MELITÓN.

A fine time this is to ask for Father Superior!

The night’s clear, so I expect you’re not a lost traveler. If you’ve come for the jubilee, the church will open at five. May God be with you and bless you. DOÑA LEONOR.

Call Father Superior, Brother. For pity’s

sake! BRO. MELITÓN.

What pity at this hour? Father Superior’s in

the choir. DOÑA LEONOR.

I bring a most urgent message for His Rever-

ence from Father Cleto, the definitor of the monastery in Córdoba, who has already written to him about why I’m coming to speak to him.

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BRO. MELITÓN.

47

Well, well! From Father Cleto? From the

definitor of the monastery in Córdoba? That’s different. I’ll go, I’ll go tell Father Superior. But tell me, son, are the message and the letter about the matter concerning Father General that’s pending in Madrid? DOÑA LEONOR.

It’s a very interesting case.

BRO. MELITÓN.

But, for whom?

DOÑA LEONOR.

For the most unhappy creature in the

world. BRO. MELITÓN.

How ominous! But, all right, I’ll open the

door, even though it’s against regulations, so you can come in to wait. DOÑA LEONOR.

No, no, I cannot enter! God forbid!

BRO. MELITÓN.

Blessed be his holy name. But are you an

excommunicate? Because if you’re not, it’s strange Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

that you should prefer to wait out in the open. In any event, I’ll go deliver the message, which probably won’t have a reply. If I don’t return, good night. Down the slope there’s the town, where you’ll find a good inn, Tía Colasa’s. (The peephole closes and Doña Leonor looks downcast.)

SCENE 5 DOÑA LEONOR.

Can my miserable fate be so black and cruel that this saintly prelate will deny me help and protection? The porter’s harsh responses and objections fill me

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ACT 2

with terror and make my blood run cold. But no, if he informs Reverend Father, and the Superior is as learned and kind as everybody says, he’ll make haste to help me. Oh Sovereign Virgin, mother of the unfortunate! Soften his heart so that he will come soon to console me. (She falls silent; the monastery clock strikes one; the porter’s door opens and Father Superior and Brother Melitón, lantern in hand, appear; the latter remains in the

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doorway, while the former comes out on stage.)

SCENE 6

Doña Leonor, Father Superior, and Brother Melitón FR. SUPERIOR.

Who is it that asks for me?

DOÑA LEONOR.

I do, Father, I wanted—

FR. SUPERIOR.

The door’s been opened. So

DOÑA LEONOR.

(Very alarmed.) Oh, impossible,

FR. SUPERIOR.

Impossible? What do you mean?

DOÑA LEONOR.

If you permit me to speak to you

enter the cloister. Father! I cannot.

I can only do so here.

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FR. SUPERIOR.

If Father Cleto sends you, speak, for he is a great friend of mine.

DOÑA LEONOR.

Let it be without witnesses, Father, because secrecy is important to me.

FR. SUPERIOR.

And who .l.l.l? Ah, now I understand. Withdraw, Brother Melitón, and shut that door. Leave us alone here.

BRO. MELITÓN.

Didn’t I say so? Little secrets. Alone, with their mysteries, because for these blessed saints the rest of us are blockheads.

FR. SUPERIOR.

What are you grumbling?

BRO. MELITÓN.

That this door has a tight

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fit .l.l. and then— FR. SUPERIOR.

Obey, lay brother.

BRO. MELITÓN.

Now he’s throwing his authority in my face. (The door closes and he leaves.)

SCENE 7

Doña Leonor and Father Superior FR. SUPERIOR.

(Approaching Leonor.) We’re alone now, brother. But why all the mystery? Would it not be more convenient for you to enter the monastery? I don’t know what can prevent you. Come, come, I beg

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you. We’ll go up to my cell, you’ll have some refreshment, and then— DOÑA LEONOR.

No, Father, I cannot.

FR. SUPERIOR.

What terrifies you? I don’t understand.

DOÑA LEONOR.

(Very downcast.) I’m a wretched woman.

FR. SUPERIOR.

(Alarmed.) A woman! Good heavens! A woman! At this hour, in this place. What is all this?

DOÑA LEONOR.

A wretched woman, the curse of all creation, who at your feet (She kneels.) humbly asks for refuge and help, for you can deliver her from this world and from hell.

FR. SUPERIOR.

Rise, Señora. I do believe (He

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raises her.) that your misfortunes are great when I see you in this place and hear such laments. But, pray tell, what help, what refuge can I, a humble religious shut up in this wasteland, offer you? DOÑA LEONOR.

Father, have you not received the letter that Father Cleto—?

FR. SUPERIOR.

(Reflecting.) Father Cleto sends you?

DOÑA LEONOR.

To you, the only person who can remedy all my misfortunes, if you kindly permit the intentions that bring me to these mountains to be realized.

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FR. SUPERIOR.

(Surprised.) Are you Doña Leonor de Vargas? Are you by chance .l.l.l? Eternal Father!

DOÑA LEONOR.

(Downcast.) It horrifies you to look at me.

FR. SUPERIOR.

(Warmly.) No, my daughter, certainly not. And may God never permit my heart to be so hard that I deny compassion and respect to the unfortunate.

DOÑA LEONOR.

And I am one of the most unfortunate!

FR. SUPERIOR.

I understand your agitation, Señora. It is not strange. Come, follow me. Sit for a moment at the foot of this cross. Its shadow will give you strength and consolation. (The Superior leads Doña Leonor to the foot of the cross, where both sit.)

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51

DOÑA LEONOR.

Oh Father, do not abandon me!

FR. SUPERIOR.

No, never. You have my word.

DOÑA LEONOR.

Since setting foot on the grounds of this holy monastery, my soul is more tranquil and I breathe more freely. I am no longer surrounded by the ghosts and phantoms that I’ve seen about me for a year to the day. I am no longer followed by the bloody apparition of my father, nor do I hear his curses, nor do I see his horrible wound, nor—

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FR. SUPERIOR.

ACT 2

Oh, I do not doubt it, my daughter! In this place you are free from those false illusions, monstrosities from hell. The snares of the devil, specters that he infuses with spirit to trouble man, have no sway here.

DOÑA LEONOR.

That’s why I anxiously seek sweet consolation and help here, and shelter under the regal mantle of the Queen of Heaven.

FR. SUPERIOR.

Let us go slowly, my daughter. Father Cleto has written to me about the tremendous decision that

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has brought you to this wilderness, but it is not enough. DOÑA LEONOR.

Yes, it is enough; it is unchangeable. I trust in it; it is unchangeable.

FR. SUPERIOR.

My daughter!

DOÑA LEONOR.

I have said it, I come resolved to bury myself forever in the tomb of these cliffs.

FR. SUPERIOR.

What?

DOÑA LEONOR.

Will I be the first one? No, Father, I will not. My confessor has informed me that another unfortunate woman lived in this holy place

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ACT 2

dead to the world. Resolved to follow her example, I come in search of her asylum. Certainly the grotto that gave her shelter can also give it to me, and you, the protection and help that I need, and the Sovereign Virgin, her holy grace and her aid. FR. SUPERIOR.

Father Cleto did not misinform you, because a saintly woman, a prodigy of penance, lived for ten years, unbeknownst to man, in this peaceful wasteland. Her remains are in our

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church, and I regard them as the most precious jewel of this monastery that I, although unworthy, rule in the holy name of my father Saint Francis. The grotto that was her shelter, and to which necessary repairs have been made, is nearby in that deep precipice. Still stored within are the humble utensils that the saintly woman used, and next to the grotto a crystalline stream bubbles peacefully.

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DOÑA LEONOR.

ACT 2

Take me there without delay, Father.

FR. SUPERIOR.

Oh Doña Leonor de Vargas! Do you insist?

DOÑA LEONOR.

Yes, Father, I insist. God bids me.

FR. SUPERIOR.

Seldom does God demand such great sacrifices of mortals. And woe to him, my daughter, who might delude himself in a moment of delirium! All the tribulations of this transitory world are passing, Señora, since

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in the end they are relieved. And one serves the God of goodness and appeases him in the cloister, the same as in the wilderness or in the bustle of the court, when one’s soul is surrendered to him with live faith and a pure heart. DOÑA LEONOR.

It was not a moment of ardor, nor an instant of delirium, that gave me the idea of seeking you out here. Disenchantments with this world and a year—oh dear God!—of ordeals, of long meditations,

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ACT 2

of continuous dangers, of self-examinations, have matured my intention and provided me with the strength to make the solemn vow to die in this place. My venerable confessor, Father Cleto, who has related my story to you and whom everyone calls a saint, and with reason, approves of my resolution, although, like you, in the beginning he tried to dismiss it with his learned arguments, and he sends me here so Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

that you might aid me. Oh Father, do not abandon me! In heaven’s name I beg you. My resolve is steadfast, my vow unalterable and fixed, and there is no force in this world that can dislodge me from these cliffs. FR. SUPERIOR.

You are very young, my daughter. Who knows what propitious heaven may still have in store for you?

DOÑA LEONOR.

I have said, I renounce everything.

FR. SUPERIOR.

Perhaps that gentleman—

DOÑA LEONOR.

What are you saying? Oh torment! Although innocent, he is stained

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with my father’s blood, and never, never— FR. SUPERIOR.

I understand. But the illustriousness of your family, your brothers—

DOÑA LEONOR.

They seek vengeance and only long for my death.

FR. SUPERIOR.

And the kindhearted aunt who hid you in Córdoba for a year?

DOÑA LEONOR.

I cannot impose on her kindness without compromising her.

FR. SUPERIOR.

And would not a safer, and more suitable, asylum be a convent, with the brides of Christ?

DOÑA LEONOR.

No, Father. They have so many

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requirements to enter the cloister and—oh, no, dear God!—although I am innocent, and tremble upon saying it, I can live only where no one else lives, where no one else talks to me. All over Spain my misfortune echoes differently, and an allusion, a sign, a glance, could become a torment that plunges me into the abyss of despair. No, never! Here, only here. If you do not kindly give me refuge, I shall ask pity of the wild beasts that inhabit these cliffs, food of these mountains,

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a dwelling of these bluffs. I am not leaving this wilderness. A voice reaches my ear, a voice from heaven telling me: “Here, here,” and here I take heart. (She embraces the cross.) No, there can be no human force capable of wrenching me from this place. FR. SUPERIOR.

(Standing up and saying in an aside:) Can it be true, Lord? Can the protection bestowed upon me by your Sovereign Mother be so great and so sublime that another penitent woman comes, with such holy resolve, to be

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the light of these mountains while I, an unworthy sinner, am the humble guardian of this monastery? Blessed are thou, eternal God, whose omnipotence is proclaimed by these starry skies, whereon rest your feet. (Pause.) (To Leonor:) Your calling is firm? You are so blessed? DOÑA LEONOR.

It is unalterable, and the voice of heaven charges me to follow it.

FR. SUPERIOR.

Then let it be under the protection of the Sovereign Virgin. (He extends his hand over her.)

DOÑA LEONOR.

(Throwing herself at Father Superior’s feet.)

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You receive me? Oh God! Oh joy! How happy your words make me at this moment. FR. SUPERIOR.

(Raising her.) Offer thanks to the Blessed Virgin. She is the one who gives you asylum in the shadow of her retreat. Not I, a corrupt sinner, a despicable worm, dust, nothing. (Pause.)

DOÑA LEONOR.

And you, only you, Father, and no other mortal, will know that I live in these rugged mountains.

FR. SUPERIOR.

Only I will know who you are. But I must inform the community that a penitent is living in it. And nobody,

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under the holy precept of obedience, will dare to come within a hundred paces, much less go through the humble fence that surrounds it completely from a distance. The saintly woman who was your predecessor was known only to the guardian, also my predecessor. The other religious learned that she was a woman when her obsequies were held. Nor will I ever see you again. Every week, though, I myself, very discreetly, will leave your scanty provisions next to the fountain for you to pick up. The small bell above the

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door, with the cord running to the inside, is to be rung only in the extreme case of great danger or at the time of death. Its sound will alert me, or my successor, and you shall never want for spiritual succor. Fear nothing. The Virgin of Los Ángeles enfolds you in her cloak and the angel of the Lord will be your defense. DOÑA LEONOR.

But my brothers, or perhaps brigands—

FR. SUPERIOR.

And who would dare, my daughter, without eternal vengeance thundering against him at once? When the former penitent lived in the same

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place where you are being led by the special grace of the Almighty, three evildoers, with blind audacity, tried to approach the holy refuge. A dreadful storm rose up instantly, darkening the infuriated sky, and a thunderbolt loosed from the heavens reduced two of the brigands to ashes, and the third one, trembling, sought refuge in our church, put on the scapular, contritely embracing our rule, and died two months later. DOÑA LEONOR.

Very well. Oh Father! Since I now have an asylum where I can hide

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ACT 2

from the eyes of the world, take me, lead me there without delay. FR. SUPERIOR.

Then let it be done at once, for the light of dawn approaches. But first we will enter the church and you will receive my absolution, and then the bread of life and eternal health. You will don the sackcloth of Saint Francis, and I shall give you counsel that may be of consequence in the saintly and penitential life to which you are committed with so much glory.

SCENE 8

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FR. SUPERIOR.

Hello! Brother Melitón. Hello! Wake up, I say, and open the church wicket.

BRO. MELITÓN.

(Inside.) Why? Is it five o’clock already? (He comes out, yawning.) I’ll bet it isn’t. (He yawns.)

FR. SUPERIOR.

Open the church.

BRO. MELITÓN.

It’s not daylight.

FR. SUPERIOR.

You talk back? Upon my soul!

BRO. MELITÓN.

Me? I’ve never talked back. Certainly the penitent could wait until five o’clock. It would be hard to find a more insistent sinner. (He leaves.)

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FR. SUPERIOR.

(Guiding Leonor toward the church.) Come, let us go at once. Let us enter the house of God, Sister, and bless his name,

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and trust in his mercy.

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o] The action takes place in Italy, in and around Veletri1 SCENE 1

The stage reproduces a small room, the quarters of profligate officers. Hanging on the walls, in disarray, are uniforms, cloaks, saddles, arms, etc.; in the middle stands a table with a green cover, and on it are two bronze candleholders with tallow candles; seated around the table are four officers, one of them with a deck of cards in his hand; and nearby there are other, unoccupied,

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chairs. PEDRAZA.

(He enters in a great hurry.) How quiet things are

here! 1ST OFFICER.

They all took off as soon as they cleaned me

out. I didn’t draw a single good hand. PEDRAZA.

Well, it just so happens that we have a heavy

bettor coming, a bigwig, and if he sees the place empty like this, with no action— 1ST OFFICER. ALL.

And who is this bigwig?

Yes. Who is he?

PEDRAZA.

The general’s adjutant, that lieutenant colonel

who arrived this afternoon with the order that we be under arms at dawn. He loves to gamble, he spends 1. A small town southeast of Rome.

62

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freely, and he seems like an easy mark. We had supper together at the home of the colonel’s wife, at whom he’s already making eyes, so our sly chaplain has laid claim to him. He invited the fellow to come and play cards and is bringing him here right now. 1ST OFFICER.

Well, gentlemen, this one’s a horse of another

color. Let’s all act in concert. Do you get my drift? ALL.

Yes, yes. Great idea.

2ND OFFICER.

Since he’s field grade, he’ll look down on us

junior types. 4TH OFFICER.

Let’s stick it to him.

1ST OFFICER.

Well, for our game with the lieutenant colonel

I have a deck all prepared—specially marked and more obedient than a recruit. (He takes a deck of cards out of his

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pocket.) And here it is. 3RD OFFICER.

Aren’t you the tricky one, my friend!

1ST OFFICER.

No aces or face cards for him. And on your

toes, because it sounds like people coming up the stairs. I’ll deal now: a three to the right, a nine to the left.

SCENE 2

Don Carlos de Vargas and the Chaplain CHAPLAIN.

I bring you an openhanded cardplayer, comrades.

ALL.

Then he’s a welcome arrival. (Standing up and sitting down again.)

DON CARLOS.

Good evening, gentlemen. (In an aside:)

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What a pigsty! God knows it embarrasses me no end to mix with such a crowd. 1ST OFFICER.

Have a seat. (They all make room for him, and Don Carlos sits down.)

CHAPLAIN.

(To the banker:) Where are the other players, Captain?

1ST OFFICER.

(Shuffling.) They beat it with their pockets full as soon as they broke the bank. It became an endless game that I couldn’t crack, and it was a damn jack that always won, a jack that turned up twenty-two times, and never to the right.

2ND OFFICER.

The one who never sees luck of the draw like that is me.

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3RD OFFICER.

And I stuck it out in that disastrous game, but walked away with nothing, so all I can do here is watch.

CHAPLAIN.

Well, let’s play.

PEDRAZA.

Yes, let’s.

1ST OFFICER.

I deal.

DON CARLOS.

I’m in.

1ST OFFICER.

Here we go: an ace to the right, a jack to the left.

2ND OFFICER.

The damn thing has turned up! The devil take it.

1ST OFFICER.

King to the right, nine to the left.

DON CARLOS.

I win.

1ST OFFICER.

My hand’s jinxed! (He pays.)

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Three gold pieces. Paid in full. A jack to the right. 4TH OFFICER.

The run’s over.

3RD OFFICER.

Burn it.

1ST OFFICER.

A seven to the left.

DON CARLOS.

I’ll play.

2ND OFFICER.

Just seeing it infuriates me.

DON CARLOS.

Banco.2

CHAPLAIN.

With an unseen card?

1ST OFFICER.

Here we go: a three to the right.

PEDRAZA.

What a pretty card it is!

1ST OFFICER.

When it doesn’t raise the stakes. A five to the left.

DON CARLOS.

(Standing up and seizing the deck.) Not so fast, my banker friend,

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(He turns his card over.) because I’ve won my money and I don’t tolerate cheating. 1ST OFFICER.

What! Cheating? Who dares to—

DON CARLOS.

I do. Right behind the five is the queen, and you helped her along on her journey, Captain.3

1ST OFFICER.

I’m an honorable man, and this is happenstance.

2. A betting term used to match, that is, equal, the total amount in the bank. 3. To win, one cannot exceed twenty-one points. The queen would give Don Carlos twenty-three points, thus ensuring his loss.

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DON CARLOS.

This is foul play, and you’re a shifty cardsharp.

PEDRAZA.

And you’re a lunatic, a brazen liar.

DON CARLOS.

And you’re a blackguard, and with my sword—

ALL.

This is an honorable house.

CHAPLAIN.

For God’s sake, let’s not make noise.

DON CARLOS.

(Knocking over the table.) Enough talk.

ALL.

(Reaching for their swords.) Down, down with the insolent newcomer.

DON CARLOS.

(He backs away, defending himself.) What chance does a den of thieves stand with a valiant noble? (They exit, crossing swords, while two or three soldiers remove the table and

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chairs, clearing the stage.)

SCENE 3

The stage reproduces a forest on a very dark night. Don Álvaro appears alone, in the background, wearing the uniform of a captain of grenadiers. He slowly approaches down center, declaiming in a highly agitated state. DON ÁLVARO.

(Alone.) What an insufferable burden existence is for the miserable mortal born under a terrible sign! What a horrible eternity this brief life! What a deep dungeon

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ACT 3

this world for the wretch of a man whom irate heaven beholds with its furious frown! It seems, yes, it seems that the harder and more bitter our life becomes, the more destiny extends and prolongs it. If life is granted us only to suffer, and that of the happy man must be cut short as punishment for not serving its purpose, it is a terrible thing to be born! For the man who lives quietly and joyfully amid applause and honor, and drains the delectable Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

chalice of innocent love, death tramples his happiness and destroys his bliss when he is at his strongest and most spirited, while I who am forlorn, I who seek death, cannot find it. But, how can I meet it—ill-starred as I am!—if when I was born miserable, I was born to grow old? If on that day of jubilation (because I have enjoyed but one), Fortune had smiled, how quickly precocious Death would have slit my throat with its ferocious scythe!

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To adorn my head with the splendid crown of the Empire of the West, far away in the torrid zone, love and burning ambition begot me in concert, but so misguidedly, with such adverse fortune, that a jail was my cradle and the wilderness my school. I grew up among barbarians, and at the age of reason I set out to fulfill a son’s obligation. Hiding my name, I left (which is a crime) to save my life, and thus repay those who gave it to me, because in their dreams they saw a throne, a throne that became a scaffold when they awoke. Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

Then destiny gave me one smiling day, one and one only, perhaps with a more sinister aim. Thus does the executioner shine a light in the dark jail with the tyrannical intention of having the prisoner see some of the horror that surrounds him in his frightful abode. Seville!! Guadalquivir!! How you torment my mind! The night that I suddenly saw my brief happiness flee! Oh, what a burden life is! Heaven, sate your fury! Help me, my Leonor, flower of Andalusia,

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for you are already an angel of light by the throne of the Lord. Look upon me from above as I wander, nameless, in a foreign land, involved in a war to earn my grave. What does it matter to me whether or not Carlos4 triumphs? What have I to reap in Italy? What, I ask? Terrible fate! Death, death reigns here and death I seek. How mistaken, oh God, how mistaken are those who praise my blind zeal, always seeing me in the heat of this campaign! They call me the glory of Spain, and do not know that my zeal Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

is only a lack of courage, since I anxiously seek death for not daring to resist the fury of the stars. If the world showers honors upon the man who kills his enemy, then why cannot the one who has his enemy inside him .l.l.l? (The sound of swordplay rings out.) DON CARLOS.

(In the wings.) Traitors!

VOICES.

(In the wings.) Kill him!

DON CARLOS.

(In the wings.) Blackguards!

4. The reference is to Carlos III of Spain (1759–1783); the war is the [Austrian] War of Succession (1740–1748).

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DON ÁLVARO.

(Surprised.) What shouts!

DON CARLOS.

(In the wings.) Help!

DON ÁLVARO.

(Drawing his sword.) I want to give it because I hear the clatter of steel, and if I brave danger because I am godforsaken, I also confront it because I am a gentleman. (He exits; the sound of swordplay is heard; two men cross the stage like fugitives, and Don Álvaro and Don Carlos come on again.)

SCENE 4

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Don Álvaro and Don Carlos, with swords drawn DON ÁLVARO.

They’ve fled. Are you wounded?

DON CARLOS.

A million thanks, Señor. Without your heroic bravery I would have been lost for sure. And no wonder, as there were seven against me, and when I shouted I was already down on one knee.

DON ÁLVARO.

And are you wounded?

DON CARLOS.

(Examining himself.) I feel nothing. (They sheathe their swords.)

DON ÁLVARO.

Who were they?

DON CARLOS.

Killers.

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DON ÁLVARO.

How did they dare, so close to a military camp?

DON CARLOS.

I’ll tell you frankly: it was a quarrel over a card game. Blindly, without thinking, I entered a squalid hovel—

DON ÁLVARO.

I understand. Here, on the right—

DON CARLOS.

Exactly.

DON ÁLVARO.

Forgive my finding it strange that a man of your class, as your fortitude demonstrates, should go into such a gaming house, where only the dregs, the worst riffraff, the scum of the military go.

DON CARLOS.

Only being a newcomer can

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excuse me, Señor. One of them invited me, and because I was flattered I agreed. DON ÁLVARO.

So you’ve not been here long?

DON CARLOS.

I arrived in Italy ten days ago, and I have been at general headquarters for only two. And this afternoon I brought a special order here from my general for tomorrow’s reconnaissance. And if it weren’t for your sword and aid, my career would be at an end, in disgrace. Let my gratitude be known, then, to whom I owe my life, because

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being grateful is the greatest obligation of the wellborn man. DON ÁLVARO.

(Indifferently.) You owe it to chance.

DON CARLOS.

(With feeling.) I make bold to ask that you give me your name. And in order to oblige you, first you shall know mine. (In an aside:) I regret not telling the truth. I am Don Félix de Avendaña, and I have come to this campaign only out of curiosity. I am a lieutenant colonel and adjutant of General Briones. We are blood relatives.

DON ÁLVARO.

(In an aside:) How frank and expressive

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he is! I’m captivated by him! DON CARLOS.

It seems only reasonable that I should know who saved my life, as gratitude requires it.

DON ÁLVARO.

I am .l.l. Don Fadrique de Herreros, captain of grenadiers in the king’s regiment.

DON CARLOS.

(With great admiration and enthusiasm.) You are—what great good fortune is mine!—the glory of the Spanish army, the radiant sun of Hispanic bravery?

DON ÁLVARO.

Señor—

DON CARLOS.

Ever since arriving in Italy, I’ve heard you praised and called the glory of Spain wherever I’ve been.

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ACT 3

And I’ve longed for the friendship of such a valiant Spaniard. DON ÁLVARO.

Count on it, Señor, for you do me great honor. And seeing as how I found you fighting so gallantly against so many, it stands to reason that you are a very good soldier. And the graciousness evident in your bearing trumpets your outstanding nobility. (It begins to get light.) Come, then, to rest in my tent.

DON CARLOS.

So much honor will be brief, Señor, because dawn is beginning to appear. (From a distance comes

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the sound of the drum corps beating the call to arms.) DON ÁLVARO.

And throughout the camp the drumbeat summons everybody to formation. I’m off to my regiment.

DON CARLOS.

I too, and I shall join in the fight at your side, where I can admire you and see you as my example and model.

DON ÁLVARO.

Friend and comrade, if you are as valiant as you are gracious, I shall be an envious witness to your ardent daring.

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SCENE 5 The stage reproduces a pleasant field in Italy, at dawn; in the distance the town of Veletri and several military posts can be seen; a number of soldiers cross the stage, and then an infantry company, with their captain, first lieutenant, and second lieutenant, comes on; Don Carlos appears on horseback, followed by an orderly, and positions the company to one side as a guerrilla band advances to the rear of the stage. DON CARLOS.

Captain, you will remain here until given fur-

ther orders. But if the enemy overwhelms the guerrillas and heads for that hill where the Cantabria company is,5 move out to relieve them at all costs. CAPTAIN.

Understood, Colonel. I will do my duty.

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(Don Carlos exits.)

SCENE 6 CAPTAIN.

Grenadiers, stand at ease. It seems that this adju-

tant knows what he’s doing. (The officers break ranks and gather, looking through a telescope at where the sound of gunfire is heard.) LIEUTENANT.

He’s galloping into the line of fire like some-

one possessed of the devil, and it’s the thick of the fight. 2ND LIEUTENANT.

And I think it’ll be very heated.

5. Cantabria is a Community (Comunidad) in north central Spain that formerly consisted of the provinces of Biscay and Santander.

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(Looking through the telescope.) The king’s grena-

CAPTAIN.

diers are acquitting themselves well. LIEUTENANT.

That’s because leading them into battle is the

glory of Spain, the valiant Don Fadrique de Herreros, who fights like a madman. 2ND LIEUTENANT.

(Taking the telescope and looking through it.)

Well, the Germans are charging with fixed bayonets, and relentlessly. Oh, no! They’re dislodging us from that position! (The firing becomes more intense.) (He takes the telescope.) Let’s see, let’s see. Alas! If

CAPTAIN.

I’m not mistaken, the captain of the king’s grenadiers has fallen, either wounded or dead. I see him clear as day. LIEUTENANT.

I make out the company milling around .l.l.

and I think it’s retreating. Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

SOLDIERS. CAPTAIN.

Let’s attack! Let’s attack!

Quiet! Stand firm! (He looks again through the tele-

scope.) The guerrillas are also retreating. 2ND LIEUTENANT. CAPTAIN.

Someone’s riding there hell-bent.

Yes, it’s the adjutant. He’s rallying the scattered

company and charging .l.l. and with what bravery! The day is ours! LIEUTENANT. SOLDIERS. CAPTAIN.

Yes, I see the Germans fleeing.

Let’s attack! Stand firm, grenadiers. (He looks through the tele-

scope.) The adjutant’s recaptured the position and the king’s company is making a bayonet charge, routing the enemy. LIEUTENANT.

Let’s see, let’s see. (He takes the telescope and

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looks.) Yes, you’re right. And the adjutant’s dismounting and gathering Captain Herreros in his arms. He must only be wounded; they’re bearing him toward Veletri. ALL.

May God preserve him. He’s the pick of the army.

CAPTAIN.

But on this flank it’s not going as well. Lieu-

tenant, advance with half of the company and reinforce the guerrillas in that ravine while I bolster the Cantabria outfit. Let’s go. Move out. SOLDIERS.

Long live Spain! Long live Spain! Long live

Naples! (They leave.)

SCENE 7

The stage reproduces the quarters of a superior officer; in the Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

foreground is the bedroom door, practicable and with curtains. Don Álvaro, wounded and unconscious, is carried on stage on a stretcher by four grenadiers. Standing on one side is the surgeon, and on the other Don Carlos, covered in dust and by all appearances very tired; a soldier brings in Don Álvaro’s traveling bag and puts it on a table; the stretcher is positioned in the middle of the stage, while the grenadiers enter the bedroom to make the bed. DON CARLOS.

Set him down here very, very carefully, and go at once to ready my bed. (Two of the soldiers enter the bedroom and the other two remain.)

SURGEON.

And let there be complete quiet.

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DON ÁLVARO.

(Regaining consciousness.) Where am I? Where?

DON CARLOS.

(Very warmly.) In Veletri, at my side, noble friend. The victory was ours, so rest easy.

DON ÁLVARO.

Good God! What a great disservice you’ve done me by saving me from death!

DON CARLOS.

Say no such thing, Don Fadrique, when I am so prideful that heaven has granted me the honor of saving your life.

DON ÁLVARO.

Oh, Don Félix de Avendaña, what a great wrong you have done me! (He faints.)

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SURGEON.

He’s fainted again. Water and vinegar.

DON CARLOS.

(To one of the soldiers:) At once. (To the surgeon:) Is he in grave danger?

SURGEON.

This bullet wound, with the ball still lodged in his chest, makes me very nervous; as for the others, they entail less risk.

DON CARLOS.

(Passionately.) Save his life, save him. Exhaust all the means of your art, and I assure you a reward the likes of which—

SURGEON.

I am obliged. To carry out the

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duties of my profession I do not need an incentive, for I am very much interested in saving this valiant man. (The soldier enters with a glass of water and vinegar. The surgeon sprinkles the patient’s face and holds smelling salts to his nose.) DON ÁLVARO.

(Regaining consciousness.) Oh!

DON CARLOS.

Courage, noble friend, muster courage and take heart. Soon, very soon, you shall be cured and recovered and well, and will again stand as the glory, the polestar of warriors. And the king shall acknowledge your heroic exploits

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with all the reward they deserve. Yes, very soon, hale and hearty once more, showered with imperishable palms and everlasting laurels, your chest will be adorned with a precious cross of the Order of Santiago6 or Calatrava. DON ÁLVARO.

(Greatly agitated.) What .l.l. what do I hear? Heavens above! Oh! No, not Calatrava! Never, never .l.l. dear God! (He faints.)

SURGEON.

He’s fainted again. Without repose and quiet there will be no way to treat and cure him. (To Don Carlos:)

6. The second-oldest (founded in 1170) of Spain’s military-religious orders.

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I beg you not to continue talking to him. (He sprinkles him again with water and holds the smelling salts to his nose.) DON CARLOS.

(Bewildered, in an aside:) Why would the name of Calatrava .l.l. why would it—perish the thought!—sound so terrible to his ears?

SURGEON.

He can wait no longer. Is the bed still not ready?

DON CARLOS.

(Looking at the bedroom.) It is now. (The two soldiers come out.)

SURGEON.

(To the four soldiers:) Take him in

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at once. DON ÁLVARO.

(Regaining consciousness.) Woe is me!

SURGEON.

Take him in.

DON ÁLVARO.

(Making a supreme effort.) Wait. I suspect that a short time remains to me in this world, and I should think about the next one. But before surrendering life, I wish to relieve myself of a great burden. My friend (To Don Carlos:), I long for only one favor.

SURGEON.

If you talk, Captain, it is not possible—

DON ÁLVARO.

I promise I won’t talk again. But I have something I must say, and only to him.

DON CARLOS.

(To the surgeon and soldiers:) Withdraw. Let us satisfy his wish. (The surgeon and the assistants move to one side.)

DON ÁLVARO.

Don Félix, you and you alone (He gives

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ACT 3

him his hand.) can carry out what I wish to request. Swear on your honor as a gentleman that you will do whatever I entrust to you here, and with inviolable secrecy. DON CARLOS.

I swear it, my friend, so ask away. (Don Álvaro makes an effort as if to put his hand in his pocket and cannot.)

DON ÁLVARO.

Ay me! I cannot! Put your hand in this left side pocket that I have over my heart. (Don Carlos does so.) Do you find something in it?

DON CARLOS.

Yes. There’s a small key.

DON ÁLVARO.

That’s it. (Don Carlos takes it out.) I beg you to open, alone and without

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witnesses, a box that you’ll find in my traveling bag. It contains a bundle of papers in a sealed envelope. Guard them carefully, and the moment I die, set fire to them, my friend. DON CARLOS.

Without opening them?

DON ÁLVARO.

(Greatly agitated.) Without opening them, because contained therein is an impenetrable mystery. Do you give me your word that you’ll do it, Don Félix?

DON CARLOS.

I give it to you with all my heart.

DON ÁLVARO.

Then I will die at peace. Give me the last embrace, and good-bye, good-bye!

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ACT 3

SURGEON.

(Angry.) Take him to the bedroom at once. And you, Don Félix, if you are so keen on having his life saved, make him keep silent. And also avoid letting him see you, as it affects him in the extreme. (The soldiers leave with the stretcher; the surgeon also exits, while Don Carlos remains onstage, pensive and tearful.)

SCENE 8 DON CARLOS.

Such a dashing soldier has to die? How unfair! Inasmuch as he saved me, my grief will be eternal if I cannot

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save him. And from the moment that he preserved my life, I undertook to preserve his. (Pause.) I’ve never seen such skill at arms, and never seen another person possessed of more pride and gallantry. But he is a peculiar man, and in the short time I’ve known him I’ve noticed that he exhibits strange traits indeed. (Pause.) And why did it horrify him so when he heard me say Calatrava? What can there be in the name that excites fear in him? Perhaps he

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knows it’s dishonored .l.l.l! Perhaps he’s an Andalusian nobleman.l.l.l. Heavens! What a ray of light you’ve shed on me at this moment! Yes. Can he be the traitor who dishonored my family, the one I came here to seek? (Furious and clutching his sword.) And he still breathes? No, right now at my hands .l.l. (He runs toward the bedroom and stops.) What am I doing? Am I going to throw myself blindly into the abyss of infamy? Can a gentleman like me kill the man who saved his life, a man who’s defenseless and dying? Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

(Pause.) Can my suspicion not turn out to be false? Yes. Who knows! But, heavens, this key is going to tell me everything! (He approaches the traveling bag, opens it hastily, and removes the box, setting it on the table.) Come out, mysterious box, fatal urn of destiny that my fearful hand touches with beads of mortal sweat. Trembling prevents me from opening you, trembling brought on by apprehension

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that inside you I am going to find the bits and pieces of my honor. (Resolved to open it and doing so.) But no, because in you my hope, the light given to me by destiny, is about to find the path that will lead me to revenge. (He opens the box and removes a sealed bundle.) I have the bundle here now. Why do I put off breaking the seal? (He holds himself in check.) Oh, heavens! What am I going to do? And the word that I gave? But if fate affords me such an unexpected way to redress Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

my honor, am I not to avail myself of it? If I’ve come to Italy only to search for the killer of my father and destroyer of my honor, and have done so under a false name and calling, what does it matter if I open the sealed envelope only to find what I came to Italy to search for? But, no, I gave my word.l.l.l. Nobody, nobody here sees it.l.l.l. Heavens above, I do! I see it! But if he saved my life, I also saved his. And if he is the infamous indiano, the murderous seducer, is not any instrument that

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comes into my hands a good one? Yes, I will break this seal since nobody can know. But, heavens, what am I going to do? And the word that I gave? (He drops the bundle.) No, never. How easily our passion transforms an infamous and vile deed into an indifferent act. I came to Italy longing to cleanse my stained honor. And am I to begin my undertaking by tainting honor? Stay hidden, oh secret, if you are in this Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

bundle, for a wellborn man never stoops to heinous means! (Searching the traveling bag.) If only, without compromising my good name, I could find some other obvious indication that would open my eyes.l.l.l. (Surprised.) Heavens! There is. This small case (He removes a small case.) is the kind that holds a portrait. (He examines it.) It has neither a seal nor a pouch, only a latch. Even without being indiscreet I

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ACT 3

am allowed to examine it. Nothing was said to me about such an item, nor do I violate any secret. I shall open it opportunely, then, even though I may see a basilisk, even though for the world it may be Pandora’s fatal box. (He opens it and exclaims, greatly agitated:) Heavens! No, I was not mistaken. This is my sister Leonor. What greater proof do I need? I have found the clearest instance. Everything has been discovered now: the wounded captain is Don Álvaro. The portrait has been the compass Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

that guided my way. And does he—what distress!—have my infamous sister with him in Italy? It behooves me to find out slyly and furtively. What a happy fate mine will be if I take revenge and exact punishment by killing them both with a single blow! But .l.l. oh .l.l.l! Heaven above, let my offended honor not make me act rashly. Save this man’s life so that I can take it from him. (He returns the papers and the portrait to the traveling bag. Noise is heard, and he is disconcerted.)

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SCENE 9

The surgeon, who comes on very contented. SURGEON.

I bring good tidings. I’ve removed the bullet. (He shows it to him.) And the wound isn’t as bad as I first thought.

DON CARLOS.

(He embraces the surgeon, beside himself with joy.) Truly? You make me happy. I am more anxious to see the captain well than you

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can imagine, my friend.

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o] The action takes place in Veletri SCENE 1

The stage reproduces a small room that serves as military quarters. Don Álvaro and Don Carlos DON CARLOS.

Today, as you happily complete your convalescence, how’s your state of health? Is it completely sound? Do you notice any aftereffects from having

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suffered so much? Are you fully recovered, and fit and strong? DON ÁLVARO.

I feel as if nothing had happened. I’ve never been healthier, and I owe my amazing recovery to your solicitude. You make an excellent nurse. Not even a mother shows such untiring zeal for her child, and such great care and concern.

DON CARLOS.

I was extremely interested in saving your life.

DON ÁLVARO.

And how, my friend, shall I be able to repay such interest? And although you did me a great wrong

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by saving my bitter life, the gratitude in my heart will be eternal and immeasurable. DON CARLOS.

And are your recovery and strength such that no enemy would have the advantage over you—?

DON ÁLVARO.

I feel so good, my friend, that I’ve already been to the colonel’s house to report, and at headquarters they returned me to duty.

DON CARLOS.

Truly?

DON ÁLVARO.

Are you perhaps angry because I didn’t tell you yesterday that I was going to take this step today? Since you look after me so solicitously

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I feared you would be opposed, and being healthy, in truth it wasn’t honorable for me to live an idle life. DON CARLOS.

So nothing pains you any longer, nor is there a trace of weakness in your chest, in your head, or in your sword arm?

DON ÁLVARO.

No, but it seems that something is troubling you, my friend, and that perhaps it displeases you that I am so well.

DON CARLOS.

On the contrary! On seeing you well, capable of military action, my heart beats rapt with joy.

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Only I wouldn’t want your valor to delude you, and on some occasion have your personal stamina— DON ÁLVARO.

Do you want proof?

DON CARLOS.

(Vehemently.) Yes, I want proof.

DON ÁLVARO.

We are going to reconnoiter in the morning and fire at the enemy.

DON CARLOS.

Since you’re strong and there’s no time to lose, proof can be given without your going so far to fight.

DON ÁLVARO.

(Confused.) I don’t understand you.

DON CARLOS.

Without going up against the Austrians, don’t you have personal enemies who can put you to the test?

DON ÁLVARO.

Who doesn’t? But I don’t understand

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what you’re saying to me. DON CARLOS.

Your conscience is shouting it to you more than I am. It would be useless to pretend. Have you received a letter from Don Álvaro the Indiano?

DON ÁLVARO.

(Beside himself.) Oh, traitor! Oh, perfidious friend! You blackguard, you violated a secret, which I, weak and dying, imprudently and inadvertently—

DON CARLOS.

You dare to think .l.l.l? I respected your sealed papers, because the honorably born conduct themselves as I have. The portrait of that ignominious woman, your accomplice, played you false, and

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it silently beseeched me to reclaim my honor and hers. I am Don Carlos de Vargas, Marquis of Calatrava because of your crime. Tremble, for I stand before you. DON ÁLVARO.

I don’t know how to tremble, though you have indeed surprised me.

DON CARLOS.

It’s no wonder.

DON ÁLVARO.

And purloining my friendship: Was that honorable, Marquis?

DON CARLOS.

I will not allow myself to be called Marquis, since I shall assume the title only after killing you.

DON ÁLVARO.

It’s possible that you’ll die without the title.

DON CARLOS.

Quickly, let us do battle. Let

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us remain inside or go outside. Let us go where my fury— DON ÁLVARO.

Let us go, then, Don Carlos, because although I have never sought affairs of honor, I do not avoid them. But wait. In a man of noble heart, courage is not fury, and courage always operates with calm. You know that I seek death, that I seek risks, but with you I need to conduct myself differently and explain to you—

DON CARLOS.

Any explanation would be a waste of time.

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DON ÁLVARO.

Do not set reason aside, for it is usually fatal. Inasmuch as the stars, by means that defy explanation, strove to make us friends, why oppose what they sought to do? If they tried to unite us with the auspicious ties of mutual and sublime deeds, it was not, no, not to come to blows. Perhaps it was to amend the inevitable misfortune for which I was not to blame.

DON CARLOS.

And you dare to remind me of it?

DON ÁLVARO.

Do you fear that your valor will be diminished and astonished

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if it finds in its adversary a man of nobility and honor? DON CARLOS.

Nobility, an adventurer? Honor, an unknown? With neither a father nor a name, upstart and arrogant!

DON ÁLVARO.

Oh, forasmuch as I sought to avoid it, that same error dealt a death blow to your father! Do not meet the same fate. And the fact that my right hand is still, and has not torn out your tongue, shows that unfounded affronts and insults do not offend. Oh, how different it would have

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been if I could have disclosed a mysterious secret! DON CARLOS.

Keep it. I am not curious. I only long for revenge and blood.

DON ÁLVARO.

Blood? Blood there will be.

DON CARLOS.

Let us have it out already.

DON ÁLVARO.

Let us go without delay. (Stopping.) But, Don Carlos.l.l.l. Oh! Can you rightly suspect me of a lack of bravery? No, no, you know me. If my pride, the principal and highly powerful agent in the actions of the being we call rational, is now satisfied,

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I will leave no stone unturned in my efforts to appease this fury that devours you. It is because I very much detest baring steel against the man who first inspired me with sweet friendship. I did not wound your father, only his fate did. And I neither seduced nor ravished that divine angel. Both of them are watching us from heaven; and as they see my innocence, so do they condemn the blind madness that consumes you. DON CARLOS.

(Disturbed.) What? My sister, Leonor?

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(Because I’ve already learned she’s not here with you.) But when did she die? Oh fury! DON ÁLVARO.

That terrible night, as I was taking her, faint and out of breath, to a convent, a horrible struggle broke out at the exit of the olive grove between my faithful servants and your irate ones, and I couldn’t save her. I fell with three wounds, and a black servant, out of sheer faithfulness (a most cruel faithfulness), swiftly spirited me away from there, bleeding and unconscious. I spent a long time recuperating in Gelves,1

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with fits of madness, and no sooner did I get well than I anxiously began to inquire into the fate of the only good in my life, and learned—oh God!—that death in the dark olive grove— DON CARLOS.

(Resolved.) Enough, impudent impostor! And you pride yourself on being a gentleman? You wish to pacify my fury with such a gross lie? Dismiss such foolish deception: after that ill-fated day my sister

1. A small town three and a half miles south of Seville.

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lived for a year in Córdoba with her aunt. Two months ago I went there to find her and failed, but I did discover for certain that on seeing me arrive she fled. But I stopped pursuing her, because, having learned of your whereabouts, finding you was of greater moment. DON ÁLVARO.

(Very moved.) Don Carlos! Señor! Friend! Don Félix! Oh, allow me in this situation to use the name that joined us in warm friendship! Don Félix, I’m innocent. You can see it plainly in my fresh agitation.

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Don Félix! Don Félix! Oh! She lives! She lives! Oh just God! DON CARLOS.

She lives. But what does it matter to you? Very soon she will not.

DON ÁLVARO.

Yes, Don Félix, my friend. Since your sister lives, the satisfaction that you must exact from me is clear. Let us search for her together; we will find her very soon, and through the holy bond of matrimony let us cement the friendship that we swore to each other. Oh! I assure you, I promise you that you will not regret it when you

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learn of my pure and exalted origin. I don’t yield primacy to the most important Spanish grandee: my nobility is more lofty than the throne of the sun itself. DON CARLOS.

Are you mad, Don Álvaro? What is it that you dare to think? What plans do you entertain? Do you think so little of me? A sea of blood roars between us. Could I call the killer of my father and destroyer of my honor brother? Oh, you affront me! Even if you were the king! Nor will my infamous sister live. No,

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after you, she too will die, because my revenge demands it. If you do not kill me, I will search for her at once, and I will plunge the same sword stained with your blood into her heart— DON ÁLVARO.

Hold your tongue! Hold your tongue! In front of me you dare to—

DON CARLOS.

I swear it, yes, I swear.l.l.l.

DON ÁLVARO.

What? Continue.

DON CARLOS.

That I’ll kill that evil woman as soon as I finish with you.

DON ÁLVARO.

Well, that will not be—by God!— because I have an arm and a sword.

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Let us go. I am eager to free her from her executioner. Let us go. DON CARLOS.

Come to meet your Maker.

DON ÁLVARO.

Ask heaven for forgiveness.

SCENE 2

The stage reproduces the main square of Veletri. On either side are shops and cafés; in the middle, fruit and vegetable stands; at the back, a guardhouse, and a sentry marching back and forth in front of an arms rack; officers grouped here and there, and townspeople crossing in all directions. The lieutenant, second lieutenant, and Pedraza stand on one side of the stage, while officers one, two, three, and four talk among themselves after reading an edict that is posted on a corner and is attracting everyone’s attenCopyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

tion. 1ST OFFICER.

King Carlos of Naples isn’t playing around.

The death penalty no less. 2ND OFFICER.

What do you mean, the death penalty?

3RD OFFICER.

We’re speaking of the regulation about duels

that’s just been published, and which is over there so nobody can ignore it. 2ND OFFICER.

Yes, it’s pretty stiff, to be sure.

3RD OFFICER.

I don’t see how such a young and brave king

can be so severe as regards affairs of honor. 1ST OFFICER.

My friend, everyone looks after his own inter-

ests, and since these duels are usually between Spaniards and Neapolitans, and the latter get the worst of

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it, the king, who after all is King of Naples— 2ND OFFICER.

No, that’s braggadocio, because up till now

the Neapolitans haven’t always gotten the worst of it. Remember Sergeant Major Caraciolo, who dispatched two officers. ALL.

That was chance.

1ST OFFICER.

The fact is that the regulation’s stiff. The death

penalty for dueling, the death penalty for being a second, the death penalty for delivering the written challenge. What else? Anyway, the first one who disobeys it— 2ND OFFICER.

No, it’s not that strict.

1ST OFFICER.

You think not? Look. Let’s read it again. (They

move close to read the edict and the others advance to the front of the stage.) Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

2ND LIEUTENANT. LIEUTENANT. PEDRAZA.

A beautiful day!

Very beautiful. But the sun’s very hot.

Good weather to make war.

LIEUTENANT.

It’s better to recover from wounds. My arm

feels fine today. Like new. 2ND LIEUTENANT.

It also appears that the brave captain of

the king’s grenadiers is completely recovered. He was quick to mend. PEDRAZA.

Has he already returned to duty?

LIEUTENANT.

Yes, this morning. He looks as if nothing had

happened. A little pale, but strong. I ran into him a little while ago. He was heading toward the Alameda to take a stroll with his crony, the adjutant Don Félix de Avendaña.

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2ND LIEUTENANT.

He can certainly be grateful to him, be-

cause besides having carried him off the battlefield, he saved his life with his untiring and devoted care. LIEUTENANT.

He can also be grateful for the skill of Doctor

Pérez, who has gained a reputation as the best surgeon in the army. 2ND LIEUTENANT.

And he’ll gain something else. It’s said

that the adjutant, who’s very rich and generous, is going to give him quite a reward. PEDRAZA.

He can easily afford it, since this Don Félix, as

I’ve been told by a sergeant in my company, an Andalusian, is here under a false name and is a very wealthy marquis from Seville. ALL.

Really? (Noise is heard and they all crowd together, looking

in the same direction.) Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

LIEUTENANT.

What on earth is that commotion?

2ND LIEUTENANT.

Let’s see. Some prisoner, no doubt. But,

my God! What do I see? PEDRAZA.

What is it?

LIEUTENANT.

Am I dreaming? Isn’t that the captain of the

king’s grenadiers who’s under arrest? ALL.

There’s no doubt. It’s the brave Don Fadrique.

(They all group together at the right of the stage proper. From the right first entrance come the provost marshal and four grenadiers, and in between them, with neither hat nor sword, Don Álvaro in custody; and crossing the stage, followed by the crowd, they enter the guardhouse at the back. In the meantime the stage is cleared, and the officers advance to the front, except Pedraza, who enters the guardhouse.)

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LIEUTENANT.

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Well, sir, what do you make of this? The most

courageous, the most upstanding, the most faithful soldier in the army a prisoner? 2ND LIEUTENANT. LIEUTENANT.

It certainly is odd.

Let’s find out.

2ND LIEUTENANT.

Pedraza’s leaving the guardhouse and

coming this way. He’ll know something. Hello, Pedraza. What happened? PEDRAZA.

(Pointing to the edict as more people gather around the

four officers.) Grounds for arrest. A duel. The first one to break the law. A duel and death. ALL.

What? A duel with whom?

PEDRAZA.

The strangest thing. The duel was with Lieu-

tenant Colonel Avendaña. ALL.

Impossible! With his friend?

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PEDRAZA.

He left him dead from a sword thrust, over there

behind the barracks. ALL.

Dead!

PEDRAZA.

Dead.

1ST OFFICER.

I’m glad because he was a madcap.

2ND OFFICER.

An insolent.

LIEUTENANT.

Well, gentlemen, he’s done it now! I’m very

much afraid that he’ll be the first one to whom the law is applied. ALL.

How awful!

2ND LIEUTENANT.

It would be an outrage. An exception

should be made on behalf of such a distinguished and courageous officer. PEDRAZA.

Yes, he’s in a pretty pickle now!

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LIEUTENANT.

Captain Herreros is, with reason, the idol of

the army. And I believe that the general and the colonel and all the officers, Spaniards as well as Neapolitans, will talk to the king and maybe— 2ND LIEUTENANT.

King Carlos is so stubborn .l.l. and since

this is the first transgression, and on the same day the law was promulgated .l.l. there’s no hope. The courtmartial will convene without delay tonight, and inside of three days he’ll be shot. But I wonder what the quarrel was about. PEDRAZA.

I have no idea. They didn’t tell me a thing. As for

Captain Herreros, he has a quick temper, and his crony had a sharp tongue. 1ST AND 4TH OFFICERS. 2ND LIEUTENANT.

He was a charlatan, a braggart.

Some of the officers of the king’s regiment

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have gone into the café. They’ll no doubt know the whole story. Let’s go talk to them. ALL.

Yes, let’s.

SCENE 3

The stage reproduces the room of an officer of the guard; on one side is a bedstead and mattress, and in the middle, a table and cane chairs. Don Álvaro and the captain come on stage. CAPTAIN.

I deem it the greatest misfortune, my friend and comrade in arms, to be on duty today and hence your jailer. Resignation, Don Fadrique. Have a seat if you please.

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(Don Álvaro sits down.) And while I am on guard do not look upon this room as a prison. But I have a direct order and must perforce station two sentries. DON ÁLVARO.

I am obliged to you, Señor, for such courtesy. Carry out at once the order given you, carry it out, and station the sentries posthaste. Although an officer is more secure under his word of honor than he is surrounded by men and arms. Oh, heavens!

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(The captain posts two sentries; a soldier brings in candles and the captain and Don Álvaro sit down next to the table.) And what is being said in Veletri? Are a thousand different pieces of nonsense being spread in an attempt to explain my adverse fortune? CAPTAIN.

In Veletri to be sure nothing else is discussed. The whole square is full of people showing great interest in you, and although I cannot leave here, I’ve spoken to several parties—

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DON ÁLVARO.

ACT 4

And what do they say? What do they think?

CAPTAIN.

They all remember the close friendship that bound you to Don Félix. And the reasons that made it so close, and they all say—

DON ÁLVARO.

I understand. That I’m a monster, a wild beast; that I’ve failed the most sacred of obligations; that my blind fury has killed a man to whose daring and nobility on the battlefield I owed my life, and to whose tireless

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care and attendance in his own quarters I owed my recovery. The one who like a devoted brother .l.l. Like a brother! Horrendous fate! Like a brother? He should have been! He’s turning into dust because a brother he refused to be. And I breathe! And the ground still supports me? Oh, oh! Woe is me! (He claps the palm of his hand to his forehead and is in great agitation.) CAPTAIN.

Forgive me if my foolish news—

DON ÁLVARO.

I loved him. Oh, it’s as though a hand of red-hot iron were

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ACT 4

squeezing my heart! I don’t have the strength.l.l.l. Oh, God! How bravely, with what noble gallantry, he threw himself into a hail of bullets to save me from the jaws of death when he saw me on the ground! With what solicitude he stayed at my bedside night and day! (Pause.) CAPTAIN.

No doubt he nullified such services with an offense. They say he was rather haughty, rash, touchy, and a man like you—

DON ÁLVARO.

No, my friend. Whatever people

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say about him is false. He was a worthy gentleman, with lofty thoughts. He challenged me with ample reason, and I killed him, also with reason. Yes, if he still lived, we would again go into the country, he to try to kill me, I to try to kill him. Either he or I was to be in the world, but not both of us. CAPTAIN.

Calm yourself, Señor Don Fadrique. You still have not fully recuperated from your noble wounds, and I fear you will take a turn for the worse.

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DON ÁLVARO.

ACT 4

Why did I not remain on the battlefield like a whole man? I would have met my end with honor, and now—oh God!—I long for death, and I shall have it .l.l. but how? On a horrendous gallows, as a lawbreaker, an object of horror or of ridicule.

CAPTAIN.

What are you saying? We have not reached such a cruel extreme, Señor. There may still be circumstances that justify a duel, and then—

DON ÁLVARO.

No, there are none. I am a murderer, a criminal.

CAPTAIN.

But as I understand it (the

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adjutant of my regiment told me so), the generals, in agreement with the colonels, have wasted no time in going to the king, who, although strict, is kindly, to entreat him for— DON ÁLVARO.

(Moved.) Truly? I thank them with all my heart, and the concern of my superior officers honors me and confuses me at the same time. But why should such worthy soldiers urge that an exception to such a wise decree be made on my behalf, an exception to a just law that I was the

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ACT 4

first one to break? Let my prompt punishment serve as a salutary example. Death is my destiny, death, because life for me is horrible torment. Oh, how wretched I am! What kind of death is in store for me? That of the criminal, without honor, on a gallows! Dear God! (A drumroll is heard.)

SCENE 4

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The above and the sergeant SERGEANT.

Captain—

CAPTAIN.

What’s going on?

SERGEANT.

The major—

CAPTAIN.

I’ll be there at once. (He leaves.)

SCENE 5 DON ÁLVARO.

Leonor! Leonor! If you exist, you poor woman, oh what a blow awaits you when the frightful news comes to wherever you live in seclusion that the same hand, oh misery, my hand, that deprived you of a father and happiness, has just

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deprived you of a brother! No, it has freed you from a fierce executioner who, as punishment for the welcome that my love found in your heart, was eagerly preparing to see it destroyed and broken while still beating, and with his very arm plunge you into the abyss of his revenge. Breathe, yes, breathe, because you are free of his terrible rage. (Pause.) Woe is me! You lived, and I, far away from you, sought death, and angrily considered my Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

misfortunes beyond remedy. But you live, my love, and I still await a moment of consolation. And what do I hope for? Poor me! A river of blood wound between us before, but now my arm has just transformed it into an immense sea. It was a cursed hour, a doomed hour, when I saw you for the first time in the magnificent temple of Seville,2 like an angel come down from heaven 2. The gothic cathedral (1401–1519) is—with its famous bell tower, the Giralda—one of the largest and most artistically rich in the world. It contains the tomb of Christopher Columbus.

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where the throne of the Eternal shines! What a happy future my imagination saw for a moment, though it fled as speedily as do the golden towers and silvery mountains and vast, radiant splendors of foliage formed by autumn clouds scudding in shafts of morning light when the wind blows all of a sudden. (Pause.) But in what expanses, in what fantastic regions do I wander? What do I await? Before very long, far from vain and deceitful worldly affections, I shall go Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

to God’s inexorable tribunal. (Pause.) And my parents? My unfortunate parents still lie shut up in the horrendous prison of a castle.l.l.l. When I intended to restore their name and splendor, and ransom their miserable heads with my exploits and heroic deeds, only a disgraceful death, criminal that I am, awaits me. (He is in the depths of despair.)

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SCENE 6

Don Álvaro and the Captain CAPTAIN.

Hello, friend and comrade.

DON ÁLVARO.

Do you bring me news? When does the court-martial convene?

CAPTAIN.

They say it has to meet this very night, as quickly as possible. King Carlos has an unyielding, iron will.

DON ÁLVARO.

He is a valiant soldier and a great king.

CAPTAIN.

But he could be less tenacious and harsh. No one, no one, can make him back down once

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his mind is made up. DON ÁLVARO.

Weakness discredits kings.

CAPTAIN.

The commanders and generals who are in Veletri today went in a body to see him and beg him to suspend the law on behalf of a man who has so many credits. And it was all fruitless. Carlos, resolute and harder than a rock, refused and ordered that the law be obeyed and that the court-martial pronounce sentence tonight. But there is still hope: perhaps the sentence will be—

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ACT 4

DON ÁLVARO.

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According to the law. There is no alternative; anything else would be unjust.

CAPTAIN.

But what a violent, incomprehensible, harsh penalty!

DON ÁLVARO.

I will suffer death like a Christian. It does not terrify me. God did not want me to depart this life with honor and eternal fame on the battlefield, rather with affront on an ignominious gallows. I await death humbly. Let it come.

CAPTAIN.

Perhaps it will not be. We have yet to see. Perhaps there will be an uprising. The army worships you, and its agitation is extremely

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high. Perhaps a riot— DON ÁLVARO.

Enough! What are you saying? How can someone who boasts of being a soldier think such a thing? How could the army ignore discipline? How could I owe my life to a rebellion? No, never. May there never be such turmoil for my sake.

CAPTAIN.

The law is cruel, horrendous!

DON ÁLVARO.

I consider it very just. It became necessary to remedy an abuse— (A drum and two shots are heard.)

CAPTAIN.

What on earth?

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DON ÁLVARO.

Did you hear?

CAPTAIN.

The turmoil’s already begun. (A terrific racket is heard, along with gunfire, confusion, and cannon shouts that grow louder until the end of the act.)

SCENE 7

The above and the sergeant, who enters in great haste. SERGEANT.

The Germans! The enemy’s in Veletri! We’ve

been caught unawares. VOICES FROM WITHIN.

To arms! To arms! (The officer exits for a

moment, the noise grows louder, and he returns with his sword drawn.) CAPTAIN.

Don Fadrique, escape. I can no longer protect

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your person. Our soldiers and the imperials are mixing it up in the streets; the king’s palace is burning; there’s frightful confusion. The choice is yours. Come, men, let’s fight our way through like heroes or die like Spaniards. (The captain, the sentries, and the sergeant exit.)

SCENE 8 DON ÁLVARO.

Give me a sword. I shall rush into the arms of death, but if it is my fate to live and I do not meet my end amid so much chaos, then I make a solemn vow to you, Eternal Father, to renounce the world and finish my days in the wilderness.

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ACT 5

o] The action takes place in and around the Monastery of Los Ángeles SCENE 1

The theater reproduces the interior of the lower cloister of the Monastery of Los Ángeles, which should be an unassuming corridor that runs around a small courtyard with orange trees, oleander, and jasmine. On the left is the porter’s door; on the right, the stairs. The setting, or drop curtain, should be downstage so that others upstage can appear in order. Father Superior is pacing back and forth on the proscenium, engrossed in his breviary; Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

Brother Melitón, without a cloak, his shirt sleeves rolled up, is ladling soup from a cauldron to the Old Man, the Lame Man, the One-Armed Man, the Woman, and a group of poor people clustered at the porter’s door. BRO. MELITÓN.

All right now, let’s have quiet and order.

You’re not at a cheap restaurant. WOMAN.

Father, me, me!

OLD MAN.

How many helpings do you want, Marica?

LAME MAN.

She’s already taken three, and it’s not right.

BRO. MELITÓN.

Keep quiet, and be humble, because I have a

headache. ONE-ARMED MAN. WOMAN.

Marica has taken three helpings.

And I’m even going to take four, seeing as how I

have six little ones. 111

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ACT 5

And why do you have six little ones? A

BRO. MELITÓN.

curse on your soul! WOMAN.

Because God gave them to me.

BRO. MELITÓN.

Sure .l.l. God .l.l. God.l.l.l. You wouldn’t

have them if you spent your nights like me, saying the rosary and flogging yourself. (Gravely.) Brother Melitón! Brother Melitón!

FR. SUPERIOR.

God help us! BRO. MELITÓN.

Father, why, these ragged people are amaz-

ingly fertile— LAME MAN.

Me, Father Melitón, because my crippled moth-

er’s waiting outside. BRO. MELITÓN.

Really? The old witch has also come? Just

what we needed. FR. SUPERIOR.

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WOMAN.

Brother Melitón!

My four helpings!

ONE-ARMED MAN. OLD MAN. ALL.

Me first!

Me!

Me! Me!

BRO. MELITÓN.

Go to the devil, and be mannerly. Watch I

don’t give it to you with the ladle. FR. SUPERIOR.

With charity, Brother, with charity, for they

are children of God. BRO. MELITÓN. WOMAN.

(Upset.) Take it, and good riddance.

When Father Rafael gave us the stew, he did it

with more manners and more fear of God. BRO. MELITÓN.

Then call Father Rafael .l.l. who couldn’t put

up with you for even one week. OLD MAN.

Brother, will you give me a little more slop?

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BRO. MELITÓN.

You rascal! You call God’s beneficence slop?

FR. SUPERIOR.

Charity and patience, Brother Melitón. The

poor things have enough troubles of their own. BRO. MELITÓN.

I would like to see Your Reverence contend

with them day in, day out. LAME MAN.

Father Rafael—

BRO. MELITÓN.

Don’t nag me with Father Rafael .l.l. and .l.l.

take the leftovers. (He serves what is left in the cauldron and then rolls it away with a kick.) And go outside to eat. WOMAN.

If Father Rafael could come down to read the

Holy Scriptures to my little boy, who has a fever— BRO. MELITÓN.

Bring him tomorrow, when Father Rafael

will come to say Mass. LAME MAN.

If Father Rafael could come to town to heal my

friend, who fell— Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

BRO. MELITÓN.

Now is not the time to go and work mira-

cles. In the morning, in the morning, when it’s cool. ONE-ARMED MAN. BRO. MELITÓN.

If Father Rafael—

(Beside himself.) Enough already! Out with

you! Come on, outside! How the seed of degenerates spreads! Shake a leg! (He herds them outside with the ladle and closes the door; then, miffed and tired, he joins Father Superior.)

SCENE 2

Father Superior and Brother Melitón BRO. MELITÓN.

No amount of patience is enough, Father.

FR. SUPERIOR.

It seems to me, Brother Melitón, that the

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Lord has not endowed you with an abundance of it. Consider that in feeding God’s poor you are performing a task that an angel would be honored to carry out. BRO. MELITÓN.

I would like to see an angel in my place,

even for three days. Perhaps with each slap— FR. SUPERIOR.

Don’t talk nonsense.

BRO. MELITÓN.

Well, it’s the truth. I do it gladly, which is

something else. And blessed be the Lord, who gives us enough so that our leftovers are sustenance for the poor. But you have to bare your teeth at them. A lot of rascals show up in their midst. Let the crippled and aged come anytime, and I’ll even give them my portion on days when I’m not very hungry. But big lugs who can tear down a castle with their hands, let them go to work. And some of them are so insolent. They Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

even call God’s beneficence slop. Then they’re always throwing Father Rafael in my face: first, that he gave them more food; next, that he had better manners; now, that he was more charitable; and finally, that he didn’t hurry as much. Well, the truth of the matter is that our saintly Father Rafael got fed up with both the poor and the stew after eight days, and retreated to his cell, and Brother Melitón got stuck with the chore. And I certainly don’t know why this riffraff says I’m bad-tempered, because Father Rafael can be down in the dumps and crotchety and have his bouts of anger like anyone else. FR. SUPERIOR.

Enough, Brother, enough. Having to take

care of the altar and sing in the choir, Father Rafael could not deal with the distribution of alms. Nor has

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this ever been the responsibility of a religious of long standing, but the duty of the porter. Do you understand me? And, Brother Melitón, be more humble and don’t take offense when they prefer Father Rafael, who is a servant of God that all of us should imitate. BRO. MELITÓN.

I don’t take offense because they prefer Fa-

ther Rafael. What I’m saying is that he too has a temper. And he likes me a lot, Father, and we have our talks. But every now and then he seems fit to be tied, and he slaps himself on the forehead with the palm of his hand .l.l. and he talks to himself, and pulls faces as if he was seeing a spirit. FR. SUPERIOR.

His acts of penance, his fasts—

BRO. MELITÓN.

He does the oddest things. The other day he

was digging in the garden, and he had such a pale and Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

worn-out appearance that I said to him in jest, “Father, you look like a mulatto,” and he glared at me and clenched his fist, and even shook it as though he was going to devour me. But he controlled himself, put on his cowl, and disappeared—I mean, he made tracks. FR. SUPERIOR.

I see.

BRO. MELITÓN.

Then the day he went to Hornachuelos to

attend the mayor in his dying hour, the day that storm was raging and the belfry was struck by lightning, I saw him leaving, unconcerned about the downpour and thunderclaps that shook these mountains, and I said to him in jest that he looked like a wild Indian1 1. To be understood as one from the (West) Indies, that is, from the group of islands between North and South America comprising the Caribbean Sea.

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out there on the cliffs, and he howled at me in a way that left me stunned. And since he came to the monastery under peculiar circumstances, and no one ever comes to see him, and we don’t know where he was born— Do not make rash judgments, Brother.

FR. SUPERIOR.

There’s nothing unusual about that, nor is the manner in which Father Rafael came here as peculiar as you say. The monastery almoner, who was coming from Palma, found him gravely wounded in the oak grove at Escalona, near the road to Seville, a victim, no doubt, of the highwaymen who are never wanting in such a spot. And he brought him here to the monastery where God, no doubt, inspired him to take the holy scapular, a calling he answered as soon as he reCopyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

covered, which was nearly four years ago. There’s nothing unusual about this. BRO. MELITÓN.

No, I suppose not. But the truth be told,

whenever I look at him I’m reminded of what Your Reverence has related to us many times, and also read to us in the refectory, about when the devil became a monk of our order and was in some monastery or other for several months. And it occurs to me that Father Rafael might be something like that .l.l. what with his fits of anger, his intensity, and that look in his eye. FR. SUPERIOR.

It did indeed transpire, Brother, and thus is it

recorded in our chronicles and preserved in our archives. But on top of the fact that rarely are such miracles repeated, the guardian of the monastery

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where that wonder occurred had a revelation that forewarned him about everything. And as for me, Brother, I’ve had none up till now. So set your mind at ease and don’t fall into the temptation of suspecting Father Rafael. I don’t suspect a thing.

BRO. MELITÓN. FR. SUPERIOR.

I assure you I’ve had no revelation.

BRO. MELITÓN.

Well .l.l. all right. But Father Rafael has his

peculiarities. FR. SUPERIOR.

Disillusions with the world, tribulations.l.l.l.

And then there’s the seclusion in which he lives, the continual penance.l.l.l. (The bell on the porter’s door rings.) Go see who’s there. BRO. MELITÓN.

I’ll bet the poor are back. Well, the caul-

dron’s empty. (The bell rings again.) There’s no more Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

food today. We’ve run out; we’ve run out. (The bell rings again.) FR. SUPERIOR.

Open the door, Brother, open the door. (He

leaves and the lay brother opens the door.)

SCENE 3

Brother Melitón and Don Alfonso, in a hunter’s outfit, a cloak covering his face. DON ALFONSO.

(Very rudely and without uncovering his face.) I’ve gone gray from waiting so long. Are you by chance the porter?

BRO. MELITÓN.

(Aside.) This gentleman is touched. (Aloud.) Obviously, since I opened

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the door. And although I am the porter, don’t rub me the wrong way because I am a prominent priest in the odor of sanctity. DON ALFONSO.

Is Father Rafael in? I have to see him.

BRO. MELITÓN.

(Aside.) Father Rafael again! One of my greatest peeves.

DON ALFONSO.

I want an answer now.

BRO. MELITÓN.

(Alarmed.) Right away. There are .l.l. two fathers named Rafael. With which one do you wish to speak?

DON ALFONSO.

(Very angrily.) As far as I’m concerned there can be more than a hundred.

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The Father Rafael— BRO. MELITÓN.

The fat one? The one from Porcuna?2 He won’t hear a word you say, as he’s stone deaf, and has been laid up in bed since last winter. He’s ninety years old. The other one is—

DON ALFONSO.

The one from hell.

BRO. MELITÓN.

Oh, now I realize who it is: the tall, dark, grim one with lively eyes, a face full of—

2. A town in the province of Jaén, east of Córdoba.

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DON ALFONSO.

Take me to his cell.

BRO. MELITÓN.

I’ll inform him first,

119

because if he’s at prayer it’s wrong to disturb him. And .l.l. who shall I say—? DON ALFONSO.

A gentleman.

BRO. MELITÓN.

(Walking very slowly toward the stairs, he says in an aside.) My! What a strange expression on his face! It gives me the creeps and I’d say there’s trouble brewing.

DON ALFONSO.

(Very irritated.) What’re you waiting for? Let’s go up at once. (Brother Melitón is frightened and goes

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up the stairs, with Don Alfonso right behind him.)

SCENE 4

The theater reproduces the cell of a Franciscan: a bedstead with a rush mat on one side; a shelf with a pitcher and glasses; a stand with books, engravings, scourges, and hung hair shirts. Before a kind of oratory with a skull on the table, Don Álvaro, dressed as a Franciscan friar, is on his knees, in deep, silent prayer. Don Álvaro and Brother Melitón BRO. MELITÓN.

(Offstage.) Father! Father!

DON ÁLVARO.

(Standing up.) What is it? Come in, Brother Melitón.

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BRO. MELITÓN.

ACT 5

Father, an uncivil stranger has come here looking for you (He enters.) and he seems quite the bully.

DON ÁLVARO.

(Suspicious.) Who, Brother? Looking for me? What’s his name?

BRO. MELITÓN.

I don’t know. He says, very arrogantly, that he’s a gentleman, and I think he’s a ruffian. He’s well dressed and rode here on an Andalusian horse, but he has a fiery temper and a sharp tongue.

DON ÁLVARO.

Let whoever it is come in at once.

BRO. MELITÓN.

It’s not a contrite sinner. (In an aside:) He’ll cringe the moment he sees him.

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(He exits.)

SCENE 5 DON ÁLVARO.

Who could it be? I’ve no idea. No one has disturbed my quiet in the four years that, having fled from the pitfalls of the world, I’ve been living here in the wilderness wearing this coarse habit. And a bold gentleman approaches my cell today? Do you suppose he brings news from Lima? Dear God! What I’ve remembered!

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SCENE 6

Don Álvaro and Don Alfonso, who enters without uncovering his face, rapidly surveys the cell, then closes the door from the inside and latches it. DON ALFONSO.

Do you know me?

DON ÁLVARO.

No, Señor.

DON ALFONSO.

You do not see in my appearance some feature that reminds you of another time and other ills? Does your heart not pound, does your blood not run cold, does your cowardly breast not feel crushed and confused in my presence? Or, perchance, is your repentance such,

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so sincere and so great, that Father Rafael no longer remembers Don Álvaro the Indiano, the constant scourge of a family that is much esteemed in the world? Do you tremble? Do you lower your eyes? Raise them, then, and look at me. (Uncovering his face for Don Álvaro to see.) DON ÁLVARO.

Oh God! What do I see? My God! Can it be that my eyes deceive me? I am beholding the living image of the Marquis of Calatrava!

DON ALFONSO.

Enough! Everything’s been said! The blood of my brother and my father is crying out to me for

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ACT 5

revenge. For five years I have been roaming the world, journey after long journey, searching for you, and although it has all been in vain, heaven (which never leaves unpunished the atrocities of a monster, of a murderer, of a seducer, of a villain), wished, through a chance occurrence, to finally show me the refuge where you thought yourself safe from my fury. Killing you unarmed would have been unworthy of my lineage. You were valiant, and you are still strong for a fight. I see that you have no arms, but I bring with me Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

two like swords: these. (He removes his cloak and draws two swords.) Choose the one you please. DON ÁLVARO.

(Very calmly, but not haughtily.) I understand, young man, I understand, and I can listen to you without being astonished because I have lived in the world and known its afflictions. I too have been the plaything of the vain thoughts that burn in you at this moment. Being a victim of my passions, I know the far-reaching extent of their influence, and I pity the mortal whom they strike. But

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now I look at their storms like the shipwrecked sailor who miraculously reaches shore and never again boards a ship. This habit that clothes me, this miserable cell, this wasteland, where God perhaps brings you for your own good, present sufficient testimony to appease you, and in their muteness they say more than mortal lips can. For my many faults, which are—alas!—grievous indeed, I beg God’s mercy here. Allow me to receive it. DON ALFONSO.

Allow you? Who? Me allow you? And not see your impure blood spilled by this sword burning in

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my hand? Well, this cell, this wilderness, this habit, this cowl, they neither protect a base hypocrite nor shield an infamous coward. DON ÁLVARO.

(Furious.) What are you saying? Oh! (Controlling himself.) My God, no! I am unable to speak.l.l.l. Lord .l.l. may your holy aid give me strength! (Recovered.) The insults and threats that your lips utter have no power or effect on me. Before, as a gentleman, I knew how to avenge offenses; today, as a humble friar, I know how to

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pardon and excuse them. Since you see that I am a religious now, and, if you are wise, the struggle I am waging with myself, temper your unjust wrath. Respect this habit, pity my anguish, and generously forgive offenses that are in doubt. (Deeply moved.) Yes, yes, my brother! DON ALFONSO.

What name do you dare to pronounce?

DON ÁLVARO.

Oh!

DON ALFONSO.

You left my only sister disgraced and dishonored. Oh, fury!

DON ÁLVARO.

My Leonor! Oh! No, not dishonored. A religious swears it to you.

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(Delirious.) Leonor .l.l. oh! She absorbed my entire existence, and in my heart she will forever.l.l.l. Forever, yes, yes .l.l. for a passion endures.l.l.l. And .l.l. does she live? Do you have news of her? Say that she loves me and kill me. Tell me. Oh God! Does Your Lordship (Terrified.) refuse me his aid? Does hell again assure victory, and does my soul plunge into its deep abyss? Mercy! And you, man or illusion, are you by chance a tempter who

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revives my criminal anguish to bring about my ruin? Dear God! DON ALFONSO.

(Resolved.) Take one of these two swords at once, Don Álvaro, take one, because in vain does your shameful cowardice seek to placate my fury. Take one.

DON ÁLVARO.

(Moving away.) No, because God, in his infinite goodness, still gives me the strength to resist the struggle of worldly passions. Oh! If my regrets, my tears, my confusing words are not enough to placate you; if your fury turns a deaf ear to my humble repentance,

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(He kneels down.) see me prostrate at your feet, as no one has ever seen me.3 DON ALFONSO.

(Scornfully.) A gentleman never does such an infamous thing. Your attitude clearly proclaims who you are, as does the vile stain on your coat of arms.

DON ÁLVARO.

(Springing up in a rage.) Stain? And what .l.l.l? What .l.l.l?

DON ALFONSO.

Does it frighten you?

3. Don Álvaro (or Rivas) forgets that he did the same thing before to the Marquis of Calatrava, in the last scene of Act 1.

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DON ÁLVARO.

ACT 5

My coat of arms is as unsullied as the sun.

DON ALFONSO.

And the mixed, impure blood of a mulatto does not cloud one of its quarters?

DON ÁLVARO.

(Incensed.) You lie, you lie, you scoundrel! Let me have the steel. (He grasps the pommel of one of the swords.) My fury will tear out your tongue, the tongue that insults my unblemished image. Let us go.

DON ALFONSO.

Let us go.

DON ÁLVARO.

(Controlling himself.) No .l.l. hell will not triumph over my resolve

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with this stratagem either. Take your leave, Señor. DON ALFONSO.

(Furious.) Are you mocking me, you fiend? If, like a coward, you refuse to fight, you shall not avoid my revenge. Your affront is enough for me. Take this. (He slaps his face.)

DON ÁLVARO.

(Furious and regaining all his energy.) What’ve you done? You fool, you! Your sentence is sure now: it’s the hour of death, of death! May hell confound me!

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SCENE 7

The stage reproduces the same lower cloister as in the first scenes of this act. Brother Melitón comes on from one side, as though descending the stairs; Don Álvaro and Don Alfonso, whose face is still concealed by his cape, come on in great haste. BRO. MELITÓN. DON ÁLVARO.

BRO. MELITÓN. DON ÁLVARO.

(Going to meet them.) Where are you headed?

(In a terrible voice.) Open the door! It’s a stormy evening. It’s going to pour.

Open the door.

BRO. MELITÓN.

(Walking toward the door.) My, my! We’re very

snappish today. I’m going. Do you want me to accompany you? Is there someone dangerously ill at the farm? DON ÁLVARO.

The door. At once.

Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

BRO. MELITÓN.

(Opening the door.) Is Father going to Hor-

nachuelos? DON ÁLVARO.

(Leaving with Don Alfonso.) I’m going to hell.

(Brother Melitón is taken aback.)

SCENE 8 BRO. MELITÓN.

To hell! Have a good trip! That unknown gentleman also told me, for my information, that he was from hell. And what faces .l.l. Good Lord! I fear that my suspicions will be borne out. (He goes over to

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the door and exclaims in amazement:) By my revered father Saint Francis! They’re on the mountain, jumping from crag to crag without touching ground. And the horse is chasing after them like a lap dog. What .l.l.l? The two of them are going toward the cliff by the hermitage. (Anxiously leaning out of the door and shouting:) Stop, brothers! Stop, I say! Stay away from the wall! There’s such a thing as excommunication and God’s going to punish you! (He comes back on stage.) Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

They don’t hear me. Shouting is futile. It’s obvious they’re demons. No doubt they intend to make off with the saintly penitent. Father Rafael, Father Rafael .l.l.l! Expect the worst, find the worst. I’ll bar the door securely .l.l. as I’m scared stiff. (He closes the door.) They’ve left a whiff of fire and brimstone. I’m going to ring the bells. (He exits by one side and comes back on by the other, as though greatly frightened.)

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It’d be better to warn the guardian. Even though he may grumble afterward, he should know that this time the lay brother, and not Father Superior, had the revelation. (He exits.)

SCENE 9

The stage reproduces a valley, surrounded by inaccessible cliffs and underbrush, that is crossed by a small stream. Atop a large rock reached with difficulty, and positioned at the rear, is a grottolike hermitage, with a practicable door, and a bell that can sound and be rung from the inside; the sky represents the sunset of a stormy day, the stage will darken slowly, and thunderclaps and Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

flashes of lightning will increase. Don Álvaro and Don Alfonso come on from one side. DON ALFONSO.

We’ll not go beyond this point.

DON ÁLVARO.

No, because behind these walls we can have done with our fight without being seen. And although I’m committing a grave sin by treading upon this ground, today is a day for sins, and all of them shall be exhausted. At this very instant the tomb is opening for one of us.

DON ALFONSO.

Then let us not waste any more time. Let our swords do the talking.

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DON ÁLVARO.

ACT 5

Agreed, but first I must disclose a great secret to you, since death is inevitable for one of us, and if I fall you need to know whom you have killed in this final moment, as it may be important.

DON ALFONSO.

I’m not ignorant of your secret, and in order to quench the thirst for revenge that burns in my veins, the best of my plans was, after mortally wounding you, to give you news of such a great and unexpected and joyful nature, news with such a happy outcome, that despite hearing it in your dying

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hour, when there would be no recourse, when all would be in vain, you would die the dreadful death worthy of your evildoings. DON ÁLVARO.

Man, phantom or demon, who has taken on human form to plunge me into the depths of hell, to be my ruin.l.l.l. What do you know?

DON ALFONSO.

I traveled over the New World. Do you tremble? I have come from Lima. Let this be enough.

DON ÁLVARO.

Let it not be enough, for it is impossible that you managed to learn who I am.

DON ALFONSO.

You are the son of that perfidious viceroy who (intending to take advantage of

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131

the upheavals and wars, and the disturbances and evils, that the succession to the throne brought to Spain4) laid plans to turn his viceroyalty into an empire, and be crowned by marrying the last heiress of that line of Incas (who in ancient times were emperors over the area from the South Sea5 to the Andes). When your father’s betrayal was discovered, still in time to be prevented, he ran off with his wife, in whose womb you already weighed heavily, and fled to the mountains. And there, among the savage Indians, he raised the sacrilegious standard of treason and rebellion. But Fortune did not smile on them, Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

instead it led them to a prison in Lima, where you were born. (Don Álvaro is indignant and surprised to an extreme.) Listen .l.l.l, wait until I finish. The triumph of King Felipe and his remarkable clemency halted the knife that already threatened your parents, and

4. The reference is to the Treaty of Utrecht (1713), which resulted in the accession of Felipe V to the Spanish throne. 5. Ferdinand Magellan (1480–1521) gave the Pacific Ocean its present name, but it was discovered by Vasco Núñez de Balboa (1475– 1517), who had called it the “South Sea.”

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commuted their infamous execution to life imprisonment. You grew up among the Indians and were educated like a wild animal, and then as a young man you came with gold and great patronage to seek a complete pardon for your traitorous parents. But no, you came only to murder as would a coward, to seduce as would a monster, and to have me kill you. DON ÁLVARO.

(Enraged.) Let us prove it at once.

DON ALFONSO.

Now you have to listen to me,

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for you are to drain—by heaven!— even the dregs of the chalice. And if, because it is my destiny, you succeed in killing me, I want to leave total hell in your perfidious heart. The king, beneficently, has just pardoned your parents. They are free now, with all their honors and dignities restored. Your uncle, who enjoys considerable favor, obtained the pardon, and all your relatives are anxiously searching for you so that an heir— DON ÁLVARO.

(Greatly disturbed and beside himself.)

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ACT 5

You’ve already told me enough. I don’t know where I am. Dear God! If it’s true, if the news you’ve brought is true .l.l. (Saddened and confused.) everything can be put right! If Leonor exists, everything. Do you see how illustrious my blood is? Do you see? DON ALFONSO.

I see with the greatest pleasure that you’re blind and delirious. What is “put right”? Worldly love, glory, honors .l.l. they’re not for you. The unbreakable religious vows that bind you to this wilderness, this cowl, and this habit, a cowl

Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

and habit that harbor a deserter who escaped from infamous punishment in Italy, make them all impossible for you. Listen to how indignant heaven thunders against you. (It thunders.) This evening my triumph is utterly complete. I have revealed a beautiful and radiant sun to you, and then in one fell swoop have been able to extinguish it. DON ÁLVARO.

(Furious once more.) Are you a monster from hell, a marvel of atrocities?

DON ALFONSO.

I’m a rancorous man who

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ACT 5

knows how to take revenge. And so that it will be more complete, I tell you not to boast of being noble. You are a halfbreed, the fruit of betrayal. (In the depths of despair.) Enough.

DON ÁLVARO.

Death and extermination! Death for both of us! I’ll know how to kill myself after I have the consolation of drinking your depraved blood. (He takes the sword, they duel, and Don Alfonso falls, mortally wounded.) DON ALFONSO.

You’ve done it! Dear God! Confession! I’m a

Christian.l.l.l. Forgive me .l.l. save my soul.l.l.l. DON ÁLVARO.

(He drops the sword, looking petrified.) Heavens!

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My God! Holy Mother of Los Ángeles! My hands stained with blood .l.l. with Vargas blood! DON ALFONSO.

Confession! Confession! I recognize my

crime and I repent. Save my soul, you who are a minister of the Lord. DON ÁLVARO.

(Terrified.) No, I am but a reprobate, a miser-

able victim of the devil! My sacrilegious words would add to your condemnation. I’m stained with blood, I’m unfit as a cleric. Ask God for mercy. And .l.l. wait .l.l. a saintly penitent lives nearby .l.l. he can absolve you. But approaching his hermitage is forbidden .l.l. And what does it matter? I, who have broken all bonds, who have trampled all obligations— DON ALFONSO.

Oh! For pity’s sake, for pity’s sake!

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ACT 5

DON ÁLVARO.

135

All right, I’ll summon him .l.l. at once.

DON ALFONSO.

Hurry, Father. Dear God in heaven! (Don Ál-

varo runs to the hermitage and bangs on the door.) DOÑA LEONOR.

(From within.) Who dares to knock on this

door? Respect this sanctuary. DON ÁLVARO.

Brother, it’s necessary to save a soul, to minis-

ter to a dying man. Come and give him the last rites. DOÑA LEONOR. DON ÁLVARO.

Brother, for the love of God.

DOÑA LEONOR. DON ÁLVARO.

(From within.) Impossible, I can’t. Leave. (From within.) No, no. Leave.

You must. Come. (He bangs loudly on the door.)

DOÑA LEONOR.

(From within, ringing the bell on the door.)

Help! Help! (The door opens.)

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SCENE 10

Don Álvaro, Don Alfonso, and Doña Leonor. The latter, dressed in a coarse tunic, with disheveled hair, and looking pale and haggard, appears at the door of the grotto while the monastery bells are heard pealing in the distance. DOÑA LEONOR.

Flee, you foolhardy man. Fear the wrath of

heaven. DON ÁLVARO.

(Horrified, and withdrawing down the mountain.)

A woman! Heavens! That voice! It’s a ghost! Adored image! Leonor! Leonor! DON ALFONSO.

(As though attempting to rise.) Leonor! What

do I hear? My sister! DOÑA LEONOR.

(Running after Don Álvaro.) Dear God! Is it

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ACT 5

Don Álvaro? I recognize his voice.l.l.l. It’s him. Don Álvaro! DON ALFONSO.

Oh fury! It’s her. She was here with her se-

ducer! Hypocrites! Leonor! DOÑA LEONOR.

Heavens! Another familiar voice! But .l.l.

what do I see? (She rushes over to where she sees Don Alfonso.) DON ALFONSO.

You see the last member of your miserable

family! DOÑA LEONOR.

(Rushing into the arms of her brother.) My

brother! Alfonso! DON ALFONSO.

(He makes an effort, pulls out a dagger, and fatal-

ly wounds Leonor.) Here, cause of so many disasters! Receive the reward of your dishonor! I die avenged. (He dies.) Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

DON ÁLVARO.

You villain! What’ve you done? Leonor! Was

it you? Were you so close to me? Alas! (Without daring to approach the bodies.) She still breathes .l.l. that heart, which was all mine, still beats. Angel of my life .l.l.l, live, live. I adore you. I’ve found you, at last! Yes, I’ve found you .l.l. dead! (He stands motionless.)

FINAL SCENE

There are several moments of silence; the thunderclaps grow louder than ever, the flashes of lightning increase, and the audience can hear the “Miserere” being sung in the distance by the community of monks, who approach slowly.

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ACT 5

VOICE FROM WITHIN.

137

Over here, over here! How dreadful!

(Don Álvaro snaps out of his daze and then flees toward the mountain. Father Superior comes on with the community of monks, all of whom are astonished.) FR. SUPERIOR.

Dear God .l.l.l! Spilled blood .l.l.l! Bodies

.l.l.l! The penitent woman! ALL THE MONKS.

A woman! Good heavens!

FR. SUPERIOR.

Father Rafael!

DON ÁLVARO.

(From a cliff, with a diabolical smile, having con-

vulsions, says.) Search, you imbecile, for Father Rafael. I’m an envoy from hell, I’m the exterminating devil. Flee, you wretches! ALL.

Good Lord! Good Lord!

DON ÁLVARO.

Hell, open your mouth and swallow me! May

the heavens collapse, may the human race perish—exCopyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

termination, destruction .l.l.l! (He climbs to the mountaintop and leaps.) FR. SUPERIOR AND THE MONKS.

(Terrified and in different pos-

tures.) Mercy, Lord! Mercy!

THE END

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SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY

o] First Edition Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino. 1835. Madrid: Imprenta de Tomás Jordán.

Copyright © 2005. Catholic University of America Press. All rights reserved.

Contemporary Editions (Partial List) Nineteenth-Century Spanish Plays. 1935. Edited by Lewis E. Brett. New York: Appeleton-Century-Crofts. Obras completas. 1957, 3 volumes (Vols. 100–102 of the Biblioteca de Autores Españoles). Edición de Jorge Campos. Madrid: Ediciones Atlas. Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino. 1966. Edición de Pilar Díez y Jiménez-Castellanos. Zaragoza: Editorial Ebro. Don Álvaro o la fuerza el sino. 1967. Edición de Alberto Sánchez. Salamanca: Anaya. Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino. 1974. Edición de Alberto Blecua. Barcelona: Editorial Labor. Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino. 1975. Edición de Ricardo Navas Ruiz. Madrid: Espasa-Calpe (Clásicos Castellanos). Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino. 1975. Edición de Alberto Sánchez. Madrid: Ediciones Cátedra. Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino. 1986. Edición de Ermanno Caldera. Madrid: Taurus Ediciones. Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino. 1986. Edición de Donald L. Shaw. Madrid: Editorial Castalia. Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino. 1994. Edición de Miguel Ángel Lama. Barcelona: Crítica (Biblioteca Clásica). [The edition used for this translation.] Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino. 1995. Edición de Rafael Balbín. Madrid: Editorial Castalia (Castalia Didáctica).

139

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English Translations Don Álvaro, or the Force of Destiny. In Spanish Plays of the Nineteenth Century. 1964. Translated by Robert Lima. New York: Las Américas. Don Álvaro, or the Power of Fate. In Three Spanish Romantic Plays. 1989. Translated by Luis Soto-Ruiz and Georgia Pappanastos. Mérida [Mexico]: Producción Editorial Dante. A Translation of Don Álvaro, o La fuerza del sino. 2002. Translated by Robert G. Trimble. Lewiston, N.Y.: Edwin Mellen Press.

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Secondary Sources Adams, Nicholson B. “The Extent of the Duke of Rivas’ Romanticism.” In Homenaje a Rodríguez-Moñino. Madrid: Editorial Castalia, 1966. Alborg, Juan Luis. Historia de la literatura española, IV. El romanticismo. Madrid: Editorial Gredos, 1982. Andioc, René. “Sobre el estreno de Don Álvaro.” In Homenaje a Juan López-Morillas. Madrid: Editorial Castalia, 1982. Brett, Lewis E., ed. Nineteenth-Century Spanish Plays. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1963. Busquets, Loreto. “Don Álvaro o la fuerza de la Historia.” Cuadernos Hispanoamericanos 547 (1996): 61–78. Balbín, Rafael. “Introductory Study” to Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino. Madrid: Editorial Castalia (Castalia Didáctica), 1995. Caldera, Ermanno. “Introductory Study” to Rivas’s Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino. Madrid: Taurus Ediciones, 1995. Caldera, Ermanno, and Antonietta Calderone. “El teatro en el siglo XIX (1808–44).” In Historia del teatro en España, Vol. 2. Siglos XVIII y XIX. Madrid: Taurus Ediciones, 1988. Caldera, Ermanno. “Preliminary Study” to Rivas’s Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino. Barcelona: Crítica (Biblioteca Clásica), 1994. ———. El teatro español en la época romántica. Madrid: Castalia, 2001. Campos, Jorge. “Introductory Study” to Rivas’s Obras completas. Vol. 100 of the Biblioteca de Autores Españoles. Madrid: Ediciones Atlas, 1957.

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Capilla Serrano, Ana, et al. Homenaje a Ángel de Saavedra, Duque de Rivas en el bicentenario de su nacimiento, 1791–1991. Córdoba: Imprenta Provincial de Córdoba, n.d. Cardwell, Richard A. “Don Álvaro or the Force of Cosmic Injustice.” Studies in Romanticism 12 (1973): 559–79. Casalduero, Joaquín. “Don Álvaro o el destino como fuerza.” In Estudios sobre el teatro español. Madrid: Editorial Gredos, 1962. Díez y Jiménez-Castellanos, Pilar. “Introductory Study” to Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino. Zaragoza: Editorial Ebro, 1966. Dowling, John. “Time in Don Álvaro.” Romance Notes 18 (1978): 354–55. Estafeta Literaria, La. 326 (1965): whole issue dedicated to the Duke of Rivas. Gies, David Thatcher. The Theater in Nineteenth-Century Spain. Cambridge, U.K.: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Kirkpatrick, Susan. Las románticas. Women Writers and Subjectivity in Spain, 1835–50. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1989. Lama, Miguel Ángel. “Introductory Study” to Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino. Barcelona: Crítica (Biblioteca Clásica), 1994. Llorens Castillo, Vicente. El romanticismo español. Madrid: Editorial Castalia, 1979. López Anglada, Luis. El duque de Rivas. Madrid: Ediciones y Publicaciones Españolas, S. A., 1971. Lovett, Gabriel. The Duke of Rivas. Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1977. [The only book in English about Rivas’s life and works.] Mansour, George. “Toward an Understanding of Spanish Romantic Drama.” La Chispa 83 (1983): 171–78. Navas Ruiz, Ricardo. “Introductory Study” to Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino. Madrid: Espasa-Calpe (Clásicos Castellanos), 1975. ———. El romanticismo español, 4th ed. Madrid: Ediciones Cátedra, 1990. [See esp. pp. 161–85.] Ochoa, Eugenio de. “Sobre el estado actual de los teatros de España.” Revista Española de Ambos Mundos 1 (1853): 61– 73.

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Pattison, Walter T. “The Secret of Don Álvaro.” Symposium 21 (1967): 67–81. Rubio Jiménez, Jesús. El teatro en el siglo XIX. Madrid: Playor, 1983. Ruiz Ramón, Francisco. Historia del teatro español, 6th ed. Madrid: Ediciones Cátedra, 1986. Sacks, Zenia. “Verdi and Spanish Romantic Drama.” Hispania 26 (1944): 451–65. Sánchez, Alberto. “Introductory Study” to Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino, 23rd ed. Madrid: Ediciones Cátedra, 1986. Schurlknight, Donald E. Spanish Romanticsm in Context: Of Subversion, Contradiction, and Politics (Espronceda, Larra, Rivas, Zorrilla). Lanham, Md.: University Press of America, 1998. Sedwick, B. F. “Rivas’ Don Álvaro and Verdi’s La forza del destino.” Modern Language Quarterly 16 (1955): 124–29. Shaw, Donald L. “Towards the Understanding of Spanish Romanticism.” Modern Language Review 58 (1963): 190–95. ———. A Literary History of Spain: The Nineteenth Century. London and New York: Ernest Benn Limited and Barnes & Noble, Inc., 1972. ———. “Introductory Study” [Introducción biográfica y críitica] to Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino. Madrid: Editorial Castalia, 1986. Venuti, Lawrence. The Scandals of Translation: Towards an Ethics of Difference. New York: Routledge, 1998.

DonÁlvaro, or the Force of Fate (1835) was designed and composed by Kachergis Book Design of Pittsboro, North Carolina. It was printed on sixty-pound Natural Offset and bound by McNaughton & Gunn, Inc. of Saline, Michigan.

o]

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