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English
M E N D È S .
Well?
A Z O R A .
Ah! I am dying!
E N S E M B L E .
| M E N D È S . | A Z O R A . |
|---|---|
| Tell me then, for pity's sake, | Ah! leave me, for pity's sake, |
| The cause of your tears. | Mendès, pity my misfortune. |
M E N D È S .
Finally, I cannot know what is the matter with you, nor what brings you here?
A Z O R A .
Is your master here? Could I speak to him?
M E N D È S .
He is here; but you do not know about his little accident; he is going to burn himself. He lost his wife eight days ago, and as he is High Priest, and he wants to set the tone, he is having his funeral pyre erected with great ceremony, according to your beautiful custom.
A Z O R A .
I know all that, and it is precisely about that which I must speak to him; you have seen my husband sometimes.
M E N D È S .
Yes, and I do not say this to flatter you; but he is a very ugly man.
A Z O R A .
Ah! I wish he still were. You know how he treated me. I could not have a well-formed slave without him finding something to complain about. One always prefers a pretty face to an ugly one; well, there were quarrels, there were blows; and if he had beaten me all day, he would still scold me at night; but guess what is happening to me now, it is truly the most terrible blow, the most cruel, the most....
M E N D È S .
Has he perhaps....
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