D. Alf. We cannot help D. Pas. 431 D. Alf. 432 D. Pas. D. Alf. [They embrace. Exit Alfonso. Pascual remains behind and waves his handkerchief from the terrace. D. Pas. Adios! He is gone. His ambling mule Has borne its gallant freight far out of sight. Farewell, Alfonso. Fortune be thy guide, Truest of comrades, best of counsellors, Ride thou, my friend, towards fame, whilst I, Pascual, Like Cain, must roam the earth, a vagabond, Flying the face of man, by man pursued; A price set on my head. Not merely bastard, But vagabond! What was't he said of fame? He mocked me. Fame for an outlawed gipsy! An it be not such fame the gallows brings, Write me down lucky. Would not an attempt To bring my name to light sign my death warrant? My friend thought not of this. For such as I The monast'ry's sequestered cell were good, Rather than fame. But courage yet! I feel The blood of our dark race boil in my veins, And cry shame on my fears. Then fame be it, But not that fame Alfonso wrings from books. Not that for me. The valour of my arm, The patient wasting of my hardy frame 433Shall win the fame I seek. For I recall The words long spoken, and but all forgot, By that same gipsy queen when first she gazed Into my infant palm. "Hail to thee, child! For thou beneath a lucky star was born. Fortune," she said, "hath marked thee for her own." These are the words. I cannot choose, but trust. Shine out, my star, since thou dost lead me on, For as the loadstone draws the unwilling steel Unto itself, so man is led by fate. Avaunt, base fear, and fortune, thus I seize thee. [Exit. D. Pas. 433 [Exit. Scene II.—A wild ravine. Gipsies, headed by the Gipsy Queen, in ambush.
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