_Infanta._ Soothe, my Chimène, soothe thy grief; summon up thy firmness
in this sudden misfortune. Thou shalt see a calm again after this
short-lived [_lit._ feeble] storm. Thy happiness is overcast [_lit._
covered] only by a slight cloud, and thou hast lost nothing in seeing it
[i.e. thine happiness] delayed.
_Chimène._ My heart, overwhelmed with sorrows, dares to hope for
nothing; a storm so sudden, which agitates a calm at sea, conveys to us
a threat of an inevitable [_lit._ certain] shipwreck. I cannot doubt it:
I am being shipwrecked [_lit._ I am perishing], even in harbor. I was
loving, I was beloved, and our fathers were consenting [_lit._ in
harmony], and I was recounting to you the delightful intelligence of
this at the fatal moment when this quarrel originated, the fatal recital
of which, as soon as it has been given to you, has ruined the effect of
such a dear [_lit._ sweet] expectation. Accursed ambition! hateful
madness! whose tyranny the most generous souls are suffering. O [sense
of] honor!-merciless to my dearest desires, how many tears and sighs art
thou going to cost me?
_Infanta._ Thou hast, in their quarrel, no reason to be alarmed; one
moment has created it, one moment will extinguish it. It has made too
much noise not to be settled amicably, since already the king wishes to
reconcile them; and thou knowest that my zeal [_lit._ soul], keenly
alive to thy sorrows, will do its utmost [_lit._ impossibilities] to dry
up their source.
_Chimène._ Reconciliations are not effected in such a feud [_or_, in
this manner]; such deadly insults are not [easily] repaired; in vain one
uses [_lit._ causes to act] force or prudence. If the evil be cured, it
is [cured] only in appearance; the hatred which hearts preserve within
feeds fires hidden, but so much the more ardent.
_Infanta._ The sacred tie which will unite Don Rodrigo and Chimène will
dispel the hatred of their hostile sires, and we shall soon see the
stronger [feeling], love, by a happy bridal, extinguish this discord.
_Chimène._ I desire it may be so, more than I expect it. Don Diego is
too proud, and I know my father. I feel tears flow, which I wish to
restrain; the past afflicts me, and I fear the future.
_Infanta._ What dost thou fear? Is it the impotent weakness of an old
man?
_Chimène._ Rodrigo has courage.
_Infanta._ He is too young.
_Chimène._ Courageous men become so [i.e. courageous] at once.
_Infanta._ You ought not, however, to dread him much. He is too much
enamored to wish to displease you, and two words from thy lips would
arrest his rage.
_Chimène._ If he does not obey me, what a consummation of my sorrow!
And, if he can obey me, what will men say of him? being of such noble
birth, to endure such an insult! Whether he yields to, or resists the
passion which binds him to me, my mind can not be otherwise than either
ashamed of his too great deference, or shocked at a just refusal.
_Infanta._ Chimène has a proud soul, and, though deeply interested, she
cannot endure one base [_lit._ low] thought. But, if up to the day of
reconciliation I make this model lover my prisoner, and I thus prevent
the effect of his courage, will thine enamored soul take no umbrage at
it?
_Chimène._ Ah! dear lady, in that case I have no more anxiety.