nish army enters there. Save thyself. Heaven bless thee.
Ernest.

Brave and true unto the last! O heart! thou mayst well beat proudly, for
thou hast won a noble prize in the love of Ernest L'Estrange. Time
flies; this night the city is betrayed, and we must fly. Bernardo, lord
of fair Castile, is a traitor. Ah, thank Heaven he is _not_ my father!
Yet for the love I bore him as a child, he shall be saved; and I will
cheer and comfort him now that the dark hour of his life has come.

[_Enter_ Bernardo.

Ber. Zara, why dost thou look thus on me? I come to bid thee gather all
thou dost most prize, for the army is before the city, and we may be
conquered ere to-morrow's sun shall set.

Zara. Seek not to deceive me. I know all; and the love I bore thee as my
father is now turned to pity and contempt for the traitor who will this
night betray Castile.

Ber. Girl, beware, lest thy wild folly anger me too far! What meanest
thou? Who has dared to tell thee this?

Zara. Thou wouldst betray, and art thyself betrayed; and were it not for
him whom thou hast wronged and hunted, ere to-morrow's dawn thou wouldst
be no more, and I a homeless wanderer. Here! read the scroll, and see
how well the false king keeps his word he plighted thee for thy deed of
treachery.

Ber. [_reads, and drops the paper_]. Lost! lost! Fool that I was to
trust the promise of a king! Disgraced, dishonored, and betrayed! Where
find a friend to help me now? [_Weeps._]

Zara. Here,--in the child who clings to thee through danger, treachery,
and death. Trust to the love of one whom once thou loved, and who still
longs to win thee back to happiness and honor.

Ber. Nay, child, I trust thee not. I have deceived thee and blighted all
thy hopes of love. Thou canst not care for the dishonored traitor. Go!
tell my guilt to those I would this night deliver up to death, and win a
deep revenge for all the wrong I have done thee. I am in thy power now.

Zara [_tearing the paper_]. And thus do I use it! No eye shall ever read
these words that do betray thee; no tongue call down dishonor on thy
head. Thy plot is not yet known, and ere to-night the gates may be well
guarded. Thou mayst fly in safety, and none ever know the stain upon thy
name. Thou whom I once called father, this is my revenge. I know all the
wrong thou hast done me,--the false vow I made