its struggles, I
know what I am [i.e. a daughter], and that my father is dead.

_Elvira._ Do you think of pursuing [_or_, persecuting] him?

_Chimene._ Ah! cruel thought! and cruel pursuit to which I see myself
compelled. I demand his head [_or_, life] and I dread to obtain it; my
death will follow his, and [yet] I wish to punish him!

_Elvira._ Abandon, abandon, dear lady, a design so tragic, and do not
impose on yourself such a tyrannical law.

_Chimene._ What! my father being dead and almost in my arms--shall his
blood cry for revenge and I not obtain it? My heart, shamefully led away
by other spells, would believe that it owed him only ineffectual tears.
And can I endure that an insidious love, beneath a dastardly apathy,
should extinguish my resolution [_lit._ beneath a cowardly silence
extinguish my honor]?

_Elvira._ Dear lady, believe me, you would be excusable in having less
wrath against an object so beloved, against a lover so dear; you have
done enough, you have seen the King; do not urge on the result [of that
interview]. Do not persist in this morbid [_lit._ strange] humor.

_Chimene._ My honor is at stake; I must avenge myself; and, however the
desires of love may beguile us, all excuse [for not doing one's duty] is
disgraceful to [i.e. in the estimation of] noble-minded souls.

_Elvira._ But you love Rodrigo--he cannot offend you.

_Chimene._ I confess it.

_Elvira._ After all, what then do you intend to do?

_Chimene._ To preserve my honor and to end my sorrow; to pursue him, to
destroy him, and to die after him.

Scene IV.--DON RODRIGO, CHIMENE, and ELVIRA.

_Don Rodrigo._ Well then, without giving you the trouble of pursuing me,
secure for yourself the honor of preventing me from living.

_Chimene._ Elvira, where are we, and what do I see? Rodrigo in my house!
Rodrigo before me!

_Don Rodrigo._ Spare not my blood; enjoy [_lit._ taste], without
resistance, the pleasure of my destruction and of your vengeance.

_Chimene._ Alas!

_Don Rodrigo._ Listen to me.

_Chimene._ I am dying.

_Don Rodrigo._ One moment.

_Chimene._ Go, let me die!

_Don Rodrigo._ Four words only; afterwards reply to me only with this
sword!

_Chimene._ What! still imbrued with the blood of my father!

_Don Rodrigo._ My Chimene.

_Chimene._ Remove from my sight this hateful object, which brings as a
reproach before mine eyes thy crime and thy existence.

_Don Rodrigo._ Look on it rather to excite