Scene.—On the heights overlooking the left bank of the River Tagus. In the foreground is a road. Flinty rocks, plants and shrubs rise from right to left towards higher rocks above which they disappear in a gap. From the gap to the foreground a stony pathway descends in a curve. At the foot of the scene, below, is the Tagus lying deep between its banks, and the Bridge of San Martino. On the heights beyond are the city, the Mirador and the cathedral of San Juan del Rey in construction. The night is clear and starry. A crescent-shaped moon gradually disappears to the right behind the rocks near the end of the act.

Scene One

Ramiro, Arias, Farez, peasant men and women, three archers

Arias and the Archers are clutching and dragging towards the right peasant men and women, whom they have come to arrest. All of the prisoners are loudly protesting, except Farez, who is silent all the time.

Ramiro. Go, march on, there! (To the archers) Arrest those laggards and keep them for me! (The peasants protest) Silence, there! You will explain to the governor in Toledo.

The archers again begin to drive before them the prisoners, who renew their protests and lamentations.

Enrique. (In a loud voice at the right behind the scene) Hold on! Wait! What is that noise?

All stop and listen. Arias goes to the right of the declivity and looks down.

Ramiro. (To Arias) Those shouts! Go and see who is uttering them.

Arias. Some cavaliers passing along the road.

Enrique. (Behind the scene) Do you hear me? Who is there?

Arias. (To Ramiro) It is our commander, Don Enrique Palacios, who is returning home from the chase.

Ramiro. (Running to the right) He arrives opportunely. (Addressing respectfully, hat in hand, Enrique behind the scene.) My lord, it is I, your esquire, Ramiro.

Enrique. (Behind the scene) What are you doing there?

Ramiro. Making arrests, my lord. And, may I venture to pray Your Honor to dismount and climb up this rough path? We have warrants which are very important.

Enrique. (Outside) Very good!—I will come. (Murmurs of satisfaction from the captives.)

Ramiro. Here is our general, Don Enrique Palacios, commander of the archers and cross-bowmen of the city. He will examine you on the spot.

The Peasants. (Together, each saying a phrase) Good!—Good!—He is a good man!—He will listen to us and set us at liberty!

Ramiro. (He goes to meet Enrique at right) Up this side, my lord, if you please!

Scene Two

Those in the preceding scene, Enrique, two valets of the hunt

Enrique. (Looking at the captives) Oh, ho! This is a fine catch with one stroke of the hand!

Ramiro. I was going to conduct these people to Toledo to be examined. Your Honor may spare me the pain.

The Peasants. (All speaking at the same time) Mercy, Excellency!—Pity!—Pity!—We are innocent!—We did not do it!

Ramiro. (Exasperated) Peace! Keep quiet, there, brawlers! Do not bewilder his lordship with your croakings!

Enrique. Be considerate, Ramiro. They have the right to speak in their own defence. (He is assisted in stepping upon a piece of rock at the right of the scene. He seats himself on a boulder after giving his cross-bow to Arias.) What has caused this disturbance?

Ramiro. Your lordship has not forgotten a young Moorish armourer employed on his estate, named Kalem?

Enrique. Kalem? Yes! a clever artisan and also a handsome lad, who worked for me.

Ramiro. Unfortunately one of those black, obstinate rebels, who will not admit since the conquest of Granada by our glorious sire (he uncovers his head and bows) that the dominion of the Moors and the cult of their great devil Mohammed have ended in Spain.

Enrique. Yes. Whenever I urged Kalem to become converted he always refused.

Ramiro. He went from bad to worse—defying a royal edict, which forbids all intimacy between an unconverted Moor and a Christian, he betrayed the daughter of a neighbor, a good Catholic. For that offence the two culprits, in conformance with the law, have been punished during your lordship’s absence: the girl thrown into solitude for life in the convent of Mercy!—and Kalem, stoned to death!

Enrique. Ah! the poor boy!

Ramiro. Yesterday at sunset, up there at the foot of an elm!—After which I left the body fastened to the tree-trunk, according to custom, to serve as a warning to these accursed heathen. But, no! They are enraged! The body has disappeared!

Enrique. When was it removed?

Ramiro. Last night.

Enrique. By whom?

Ramiro. I do not know. The news was slow in coming and I was ordered to go out during the night and surprise the residents of this vicinity in their beds and bring them to an inquest.

Enrique. And the result?

Arias. Nothing!—They have nothing to say!

The Peasants. (All together) We know nothing, your lordship, nothing! So truly as there is a God, we are innocent. (Arias hushes them with a gesture.)

Enrique. Is there among them a relative or friend of Kalem?

All. Not one, your lordship.

A Peasant. None, my lord!

Enrique. No one who would have a reason for stealing his body?

All. (All at the same time) Not one, my lord!—Far from here!—A dog of a Mussulman!—We are good Christians!

A Woman. We should have stoned him to death a second time! (They hear voices outside, at left.)

Ramiro. Keep quiet, there!—Listen!

Arias. (Looking) Here is something more to please us.

Scene Three

The same, the goatherd, an archer. They enter at left

An Archer. (Dragging the goatherd) Go in! you beggar!

The Goatherd. (Obeying) Lord! have mercy!

The Archer. (To Arias, out of breath) He attempted to flee, the fool! He ran faster than his goats.

Enrique. Is he a goatherd?

The Archer. So he says.

Ramiro. (Taking the goatherd by the collar and compelling him to fall upon his knees before Enrique) Answer, villain, Don Enrique Palacios!

Enrique. It is you, then, who stole the body?

The Goatherd. Me! my Sweet Deliverer!—touch a corpse!

Enrique. Then why did you run?

The Goatherd. (Lowering his voice) For not speaking—and for fear she would revenge herself upon me for exposing her!

Enrique. And who—is she?

The Goatherd. (Looking nervously about) She who took the body.

Enrique. A woman?

The Goatherd. (Half aloud) The Moorish woman!

The Others. (Seconding him) The Sorceress!—Yes!—Yes!—It was she!—It was she!

Enrique. The Sorceress?

The Goatherd. Certainly, my lord. I have often seen her at night wandering on the heights and making conjurations to the moon, so I was not surprised to see her up there at daybreak this morning making curious gestures, in this way—I hurried my flock to avoid her—when two nigger devils approached her along that path! I was seized with a foolish fancy to know what these three were charming, and I clambered and crawled over the rocks toward them. But she pricked up her ears, the magician, and scrutinized the slope where I was lying with such a terrible gaze that I rolled down and scampered away, saying to myself: “I hope that her eyes have not changed me into a brown owl, or into a bad beast!”

Enrique. Then she is the guilty one?

The Peasants. (Eagerly) It is she, your lordship; it is the Sorceress, without a doubt.

Enrique. And who among you believe she is a sorceress?

The Peasants. Oh, all!

First Man. It is believed everywhere.

A Woman. She has caused enough misfortune with her deviltries!

Second Man. It has been proved that words from her will give rot to the sheep.

A Peasant. And sickness to men. (Murmurs of approbation.)

The Woman. Listen to the testimony of the wife of Zuniga, a wet-nurse, whose milk supply she caused to go dry.

First Man. And to JosÉ Barilla on whose barn she caused lightning to descend.

The Woman. Oh! the wicked she-goat!

Another Woman. She is the plague of this community!

Second Man. Arrest her, my lord!—It is she who stole the body!

The Goatherd. To make magic powders of the bones!

All. Yes! Yes!

The Goatherd. (To Farez, who shrugs his shoulders) It is well for you to shrug your shoulders, you!

Farez. (Coldly) Me?

The Goatherd. Yes. You who act so cunningly.

The Woman. Yes. He laughs at all we say.

Farez. At all of your stupidities! (All protest)

Enrique. Come forward. Pay no attention to them. What is your name?

Farez. Farez.

Enrique. A Moor?

The Goatherd. (Maliciously) But converted.

Enrique. What is your trade?

Farez. Muleteer.

Enrique. Then, according to your opinion, these people are wrong?

Farez. This is all idle talk, my lord—the ravings of old women. (Cries from the peasants, whom Ramiro silences.)

Enrique. Do you know this Moorish woman?

Farez. Zoraya?

Enrique. Is her name Zoraya?

Farez. Yes, my lord; that is to say, in the Arabic tongue, “The Star of the Morning.” I have long known her. I was in Granada before the conquest, employed as a servant by her father, Abou-Abassa, a scholar and physician of the last King Boabdil.

Enrique. Maiden, woman or widow—this Zoraya?

Farez. Widow, my lord!—Sometime before the siege she was married to a very valiant Moor, who was killed in a sortie.

Enrique. Being now a Granadan, does she reside in Toledo?

Farez. After the capture of Toledo, the wise Bishop Talavera, Governor of our city, took a strong fancy to Abou-Abassa because of his great knowledge and made him come here to reside. The daughter, of course, lived with him. The mother is no longer of this earth.

Enrique. Does she reside in Toledo?

Farez. No, my lord; but near here on this mountain-slope in a house built by her father, who died in the past year. She lives there alone with her old servants and her few surviving friends. Her door is always open to those of her race and her religion who appeal to her in need or in sickness.

Enrique. Ah! She likewise practises healing?

Farez. Free of charge! Her father left her great wealth and the knowledge of his art. Those of her own race are not the only ones who have sought her aid. (Addressing the peasants) More than one Christian who has secretly begged gold and medicines from her now shows his ingratitude by accusing her of causing hail to fall upon the fields. (The peasants protest.)

Enrique. (Silencing them) That is enough! (To Ramiro) Keep the muleteer. Release the others. (Exclamations of joy.)

The Peasants. Ah, thanks! your lordship! God will reward you! Long live His Excellency!

Arias. (Pushing them along) Go! Go! Disperse without noise! (They leave from both sides of the scene.)

Scene Four

Enrique, Ramiro, Arias, Farez, later Zoraya

Enrique. (To Farez, rising) You say that she resides near here?

Farez. (Pointing to the left, below) On this hillside—a white house, half way up the slope, with beautiful gardens and a terrace mirrored in the waters of the Tagus.

Enrique. You may conduct me there. (To the archers and valets) Go! (They go out.)

Farez. If Your Grace will follow me—But she is not far—There she is!

Enrique. The Moorish woman?

Farez. It is she herself—I see her coming up the slope.

Enrique. (To Farez) You may return home. (To Ramiro and Arias) You, here, step to one side and keep quiet. And observe her practicing her black art.

Farez disappears at right, Enrique and Arias going to the left, where, screened by rocks and bushes from Zoraya’s view, they watch her. Zoraya appears near the gap, coming slowly up the path into the clear moonlight as she reaches the summit. She carries a silver sickle in her hand; on her arm a sheaf of wild flowers. She descends the pathway slowly, gathering flowers as she passes.

Enrique. (To Ramiro behind him) That is a strange task!

Arias. (Behind Enrique and Ramiro, rising to see) See, my lord, in her hand?

Enrique. (In a low voice) That silver sickle?

Arias. Which shines like the crescent moon.

Ramiro. The crescent of Mohammed—the moon is a Saracen and a sorceress!

Enrique. Speak lower!—What curious harvest brings her into the midst of these rocks?

Ramiro. She is gathering bad herbs for her philters and poisons.

Enrique. A beautiful creature, truly. See the grace and suppleness in her movements.

Ramiro. One might say as much of a serpent.

Enrique. For shame!

Ramiro. Your Honor should be careful or this she-devil may throw over him the same charm that Circe of yore threw over Ulysses.

Enrique. (Joking) Am I like the goatherd to believe that she will change me into a beast?

Ramiro. No! But through love—it is the same!

Enrique. (Quickly) Enough!—I must speak to her! (He advances into the full moonlight.) Zoraya!

Zoraya. Who is calling me?

Enrique. I, Enrique Palacios, commander of the archers of the city.

Zoraya. What does his lordship desire?

Enrique. The truth!—It was you and two accomplices who took down and carried away Kalem’s body?

Zoraya. It was, my lord.

Enrique. For use in some conjurations—for you are a magician, it appears?

Zoraya. (Quickly) Me?

Enrique. So it is said.

Zoraya. By those who hate me because I am Moorish and faithful to the law of the Koran. (Murmurs from Arias and Ramiro.)

Enrique. Peace, there. (To Zoraya) So you have not come here to work some magic in the moonlight, or to meet an accomplice in your sorceries?

Zoraya. I come to gather herbs in the night and to be alone; and in moonlight because it is easier to recognize them.

Enrique. What do you do with them?

Zoraya. From the hearts of these flowers, my lord, I extract essences and perfumes for myself and ointments, elixirs and powders for curing diseases.

Enrique. Are these remedies, these poisonous herbs?

Zoraya. Yes; wholesome and healing. The vermilion fruit of the black henbane and that of the deadly nightshade or belladonna cure delirium and insanity. They also put sufferers to sleep. Also these others. They are like all things of the world, in love the same: according to the case and the dose, cure or kill.

Enrique. Oh! by that I understand that you deal in love philters.

Zoraya. What need of them, my dear lord?—Love is born of a smile, rather than of a philter.

Enrique. (Jesting) Do you often make that test?

Zoraya. Never!

Enrique. (The same) Oh!—so chaste—in spite of those eyes, there?

Zoraya. Through pride! It is not necessary to search for dignity in me!

Enrique. Bless me! the beautiful! You are very difficult.—But let that pass!—If it were not for some evil work why did you steal Kalem’s body?

Zoraya. The human flesh is not made to feed ravens and wolves.

Enrique. You have buried it?

Zoraya. In a crevice in the rocks—you may assure yourself.

Enrique. A criminal.

Zoraya. To me he was not a criminal, whose only crime was to have loved.

Enrique. A Christian!—in spite of the law which forbids love between your race and mine.

Zoraya. It is love, however, which will reconcile them in the long run.

Enrique. Ah, well! to justify that you shall explain to His Eminence the Cardinal XimÉnÈs.

Zoraya. (Frightened) The Inquisitor!

Enrique. It is to him that I must take you.

Zoraya. (The same) Oh, no, my dear lord! No! You must not say that.

Enrique. Why not?

Zoraya. You know that the high priest detests us and persecutes us. You do not want to injure me; for you are good——

Enrique. How do you know that?

Zoraya. Oh, I see it!

Enrique. In truth, what indications do you see?

Zoraya. Those which my father revealed to me.

Enrique. Of the nature of men?

Zoraya. And their destinies.

Enrique. Do you read this in the stars?

Zoraya. My knowledge does not come from them.—But through the crystal, the mirror, the silver disc and the lines of the hands.

Enrique. Ah! By God!—I am curious to see what you read in mine!—Come here!

(He seats himself on a large stone at the foot of the path, Zoraya goes down to him after putting down her bouquet of flowers and plants.)

Ramiro. (Low to Arias during this part of the scene) Ah! the bewitcher!—See how she takes him little by little into her coils in order to escape punishment.

Zoraya. (Stands near Enrique, who holds out his left hand for her inspection) You are loyal, my lord, and brave—but your will is feeble and unsteady.

Enrique. Where do you see that?

Zoraya. In the shape of your head and the first phalange of your thumb, which is short—I see here that you are subject to sudden and terrible bursts of anger.

Enrique. (Smiling) It is true! (To Ramiro, without turning round) Is it not, Ramiro?

Ramiro. (Grumbling in a low voice) Rain of Heaven! Why has he not strangled this accursed woman?

Zoraya. (In the same vein) The life-line, beautiful at the beginning—stops short—danger of death—struck as with lightning!

Enrique. (Gaily) A soldier’s death—so much the better! Seat yourself; you will be more at ease. (He makes room for her to sit on the stone.)

Zoraya. (Seating herself, continues in the same vein) These wrinkles which cross at the base of the thumb show an inclination very—very amorous!

Enrique. Oh! as to that—Yes!

Zoraya. This deep red line, which connects the thumb with the life-line—a passion! Oh!—that! Like she who possesses you!—It will end only with your life!

Enrique. Then it is to be returned?

Zoraya. I do not know—why should one be troubled about that?

While looking at his hand, Zoraya leans more and more against Enrique, who is intoxicated by the nearness of their persons, by the Arabian perfume on her hair and by the warmth of her hand.

Enrique. (Rising in order to lean over Zoraya’s neck) What flower have you robbed of this perfume?

Zoraya. The golden cassie!

Enrique. It is exquisite!—You who read the future so well in the hand—(She attempts to withdraw her hand) No! No! Do not take away your hand!—do you also know how to read the present in my thoughts? (He turns Zoraya’s face gently towards his own.)

Zoraya. (Returning his ardent gaze) Yes! (In a low voice) You think that I am beautiful and desirable!

Enrique. (Quickly) Yes.

Zoraya. (The same) But I am a Saracen, a pagan, an outcast! I am one whom you have not the right to love!

Enrique. Therefore, you are more desirable!

Zoraya. (The same) Don’t you find the royal edict which would punish us very severe: I thrown into the oubliette—you sent to the galleys or to the stake?

Enrique. Too severe—certainly!

Zoraya. Wasn’t Kalem excusable for risking such a cruel fate?

Enrique. Yes.

Zoraya. And doesn’t she, this unfortunate girl who had not the strength to resist the madness of a similar love, deserve pity?

Enrique. The Christian girl!

Zoraya. Ah! I understand why she forgot that she was a Spaniard and a Catholic and became only a woman, simply a woman!—O Nature! the victory was thine!—I envy her for having been given a body to be loved and adored without fear of the torture which menaces this world—and the damnation promised in the next!

Enrique. You could be so brave as she?

Zoraya. (Rising) Ah! certainly, yes!—who could be braver than she!—Can your race produce a Kalem? If so, he is worthy of me! I promise hours of beauty and rapture to him who does not fear the executioner and who will brave the flames at the stake for that which the sun of Africa has set burning in my veins!——

Enrique. (Taking her in his arms) I shall be that man! (She pushes him gently away. He recovers his presence of mind and quickly withdraws) Ah! demon! You have intoxicated me! Go away from me!

Zoraya. Adieu, then, my dear lord.

Enrique. (Turning) Adieu!—Yes, adieu!—It is better so! (To Ramiro and Arias) Let that woman go! (Picking up her flowers, she slowly reascends the slope) What creature is that!—her hand burned in mine and her gaze set my brain awhirl!

Ramiro. I have a remedy, my lord! Say a pater quickly and repeat an ave twice to break the charm!

Arias. (Preparing to shoot an arrow from his cross-bow at Zoraya) I have a better one!—Kill the beast, kill——

Enrique. (Seizing his arm) Ah! brute!—Stop! (He passes the cross-bow to Ramiro, then crosses the scene to the right to Zoraya, who has returned on hearing the disturbance) Go! Go! He will not make another attempt. But, I want never again to find you in my path!

Zoraya. (Standing in the middle of the path) “No one,” says an Arabic proverb,—“no one in the world today has seen the dawn of tomorrow.”

Enrique. (To his men, who have rejoined him at right, while he still watches Zoraya) Let us hasten away from here!

(Curtain)