Luna. Why did ye not kill the young Count when ye
fought?" she asked, fiercely.

"I do not know," he murmured, rising upon his elbow. "Mother, do you
know when I had disarmed him, something seemed to hold me back, to
paralyze my arm. I hated him, but I could not strike the death-blow."

"His father burned my mother at the stake, Manrico. Ye must avenge
me." And at that moment a gipsy interrupted the talk between mother
and son by crying:

"The sun rises! we must be off!" Thereupon the gipsy band threw their
tools into bags, gathered up their cloaks and hats, and one by one and
in groups they disappeared down the mountain-side, leaving Azucena and
her wounded son alone in the ruined hut. He remained wrapped in his
mantle, sword and horn beside him, while the old hag continued to
croon about the horrors of the past. In her ever-increasing rage she
called again and again upon Manrico to avenge her.

"Again those vengeful words, mother! There is something in thy voice
which I do not understand."

"Listen! I will tell thee! I have told thee how my mother was accused,
arrested by the old Count and burned alive. Well, in that fearful
moment, crazed with grief I crept into the palace, snatched the
Count's child, and rushed out, thinking only of my revenge. With
maddened mind I tossed the babe into the flames that were consuming my
mother--or so I thought! But when I looked around there was the child
of noble birth, and my own was gone. It was you who were left to me.
My own child had gone into the flames. I snatched thee up and fled."

"What is this that ye tell me?" Manrico cried, his eyes strained, his
body stiffened with horror. "Thou who art so tender of me--" and he
fell back upon his couch overcome with the frightful deed.

"I was mad! but now you must avenge me. You must ruin my enemy. Have I
not tended thee as my own, and loved thee?"

"Oh, tale of woe! Mother, speak no more." Frightful as the deed had
been, he tried to soothe the demented old woman who had truly cared
for him with a mother's care. He had known no other mother, but the
tale had distracted him. The knowledge that the Count di Luna, whose
life he had spared, was his own brother, explained much to him. No
wonder something had stayed his hand when he might have killed him.
Yet, he also recalled that his unsuspecting brother loved Leonora. In
all their encounters, di Luna had shown only a hard, unyielding heart,
and Manrico had no reason to love him