mest thou, unhappy man?

_Don Rodrigo._ Here [i.e. to the house of Chimene], to follow out the
sad course of my miserable destiny.

_Elvira._ Whence obtainest thou this audacity, and this new pride, of
appearing in places which thou hast filled with mourning? What! dost
thou come even here to defy the shade of the Count? Hast thou not slain
him?

_Don Rodrigo._ His existence was my shame; my honor required this deed
from my [reluctant] hand.

_Elvira._ But to seek thy asylum in the house of the dead! Has ever a
murderer made such his refuge?

_Don Rodrigo._ And I come here only to yield myself to my judge. Look no
more on me with astonishment [_lit._ an eye amazed]; I seek death after
having inflicted it. My love is my judge; my judge is my Chimene. I
deserve death for deserving her hatred, and I am come to receive, as a
supreme blessing, its decree from her lips, and its stroke from her
hand.

_Elvira._ Fly rather from her sight, fly from her impetuosity; conceal
your presence from her first excitement. Go! do not expose yourself to
the first impulses which the fiery indignation of her resentment may
give vent to.

_Don Rodrigo._ No, no. This beloved one, whom I [could] so displease,
cannot have too wrathful a desire for my punishment; and I avoid a
hundred deaths which are going to crush me if, by dying sooner, I can
redouble it [i.e. that wrath].

_Elvira._ Chimene is at the palace, bathed in tears, and will return but
too well accompanied. Rodrigo, fly! for mercy's sake relieve me from my
uneasiness! What might not people say if they saw you here? Do you wish
that some slanderer, to crown her misery, should accuse her of
tolerating here the slayer of her father? She will return; she is
coming--I see her; at least, for the sake of _her_ honor, Rodrigo,
conceal thyself! [_Rodrigo conceals himself._]

Scene II.--DON SANCHO, CHIMENE, and ELVIRA.

_Don Sancho._ Yes, lady, you require a victim [or revenge] steeped in
blood [_lit._ for you there is need of bleeding victims]; your wrath is
just and your tears legitimate, and I do not attempt, by dint of
speaking, either to soothe you or to console you. But, if I may be
capable of serving you, employ my sword to punish the guilty [one],
employ my love to revenge this death; under your commands my arm will be
[only] too strong.

_Chimene._ Unhappy that I am!

_Don Sancho._ I implore you, accept my services.

_Chimene._ I should