ith thee
from a child. I stood beside thee at the altar, and was the first to
cheer and comfort thee when thou wast left deserted and alone. Let me
now ask thee, Wouldst thou not gladly change thy sad lot here for a gay
and joyous life with one who loves thee fondly?

Nina. It were indeed a happy lot to be so loved and cherished; but
where, alas, is he who could thus feel for one so lonely and forsaken?

Don Felix [_kneeling_]. Here at thy feet, dear Nina. Nay, do not turn
away, but let me tell thee of the love that hath grown within my heart.
[_Nina starts up._] Thy wedded lord hath cast thee off. The law can free
thee. Ah, then be mine, and let me win and wear the lovely flower which
he hath cast away.

Nina. Lord Felix, as the wife of him thou dost so wrong, I answer thee.
Dost thou not know the more a woman's heart is crushed and wounded the
more tenderly it clings where first it loved; and though deserted, ay,
though hated, I had rather be the slighted wife of him, than the honored
bride of the false Costella. Now leave me--I would be alone.

Don Felix. A time will come, proud woman, when thou shalt bend the knee
to him whom now thou dost so scorn. Beware, for I will have a fierce
revenge for the proud words thou hast spoken.

Nina. I am strong in mine own heart and fear thee not. Work thy will and
thou shalt find the wife of Adrian de Mortemar needs no protector save
her own fearless hand.

[_Exit_ Nina.

Don Felix. Now, by my faith, thou shalt bow that haughty head, and sue
to me for mercy, and I will deny it. I'll win her yet, she shall not
idly brave my anger. Now to my work,--revenge.

[_Exit_ Don Felix.

CURTAIN.

SCENE FOURTH.

[_Apartment in palace of_ Nina.
Nina _alone_.]

Nina. Ever thus alone, mourning for him who loves me not; was ever heart
so sad as mine. Oh, Adrian, couldst thou but return even for one short
hour to thy poor Nina. [_Enter_ Adrian, _disguised_.] Ha, who art thou
that dares to enter here in such mysterious guise? Thine errand,
quickly,--speak.

Adrian. Forgive me, lady, if I cause thee fear; I would have thee know
me as a friend, one who will watch above thee, and seek to spare thee
every sorrow. Dear lady, think me not too bold, for I have known the