_High-Priestess._ Shameless girl, do you dare to appear in my presence?
_Cora._ I come from the service of our god.
_High-Priestess._ Be thankful that his thunder is not entrusted to my
hands.
_Cora._ What do you mean?—how have I incurred your anger?
_High-Priestess._ Do you suppose that I am unacquainted with your
licentious conduct?—that I am ignorant how Cora disgraces these sacred
walls, and exposes her own, and her sister’s honour to censure.
_Cora._ I have done nothing wrong.
_High-Priestess._ Look stedfastly in my face,—you have been in the
company of men?
_Cora._ I have not offended the gods.
_High-Priestess._ Cora, I command you to look at me!—you are acquainted
with a Spaniard?
_Cora._ I am innocent.
_High-Priestess._ This very morning you have seen and conversed with him?
_Cora._ The sun was witness of all my actions.
_High-Priestess._ Confess your crime.
_Cora._ I have not been guilty of a crime.
_High-Priestess._ Oh blinded, misguided creature!
_Cora._ The path which I pursue, is that of nature and innocence.
_High-Priestess._ Obstinate girl!—But remember that you are a priestess
of the sun, and tremble at the torments to which the severity of our laws
destines those by whom they are transgressed.
_Cora._ I shall suffer undeservedly.
_High-Priestess._ You will not confide in me?
_Cora._ No.
_High-Priestess._ Nor confess your fault?
_Cora._ No.
_High-Priestess._ I admonish you for the last time, Cora!—But a few
moments remain, in which confession is left to your choice—make your use
of them. I know all—I am instructed in every particular. Soon shall I
assemble the Virgins in the Temple, and convene thither the priests,
who shall judge you, and by whom you will be judged with severity. Death
will then be your lot, and worse than death, shame. At present we are
alone,—do you persist in silence?
_Cora._ Yes.
_High-Priestess._ (_Changing her tone_) Enough, I cannot believe Cora to
be really so guilty. I knew your mother, when you were yet a child, we
had frequent intercourse with each other.—“_My Cora_,” she would often
say, “_has a gentle and complying spirit, for which quality I love her
most tenderly._”
_Cora._ Oh, she was always an affectionate mother!—All the happiness of
my life was buried in her grave.
_High-Priestess._ You have doubtless a sacred reverence for her memory?
_Cora._ Can that be made a question!—Alas how many are the tears which I
have shed for her in secret.
_High-Priestess._ If such your affection, you surely would not convict
her of a falsehood, as she rests in her grave. Must I be compelled to
think that it was only the blindness of maternal love which could ascribe
to you this gentle and complying disposition?—or will you convince me
that she was right in her judgment?
_Cora._ She was right!
_High-Priestess._ Then prove it to me. The mother’s friend has an
undoubted claim upon the daughter’s confidence.
_Cora._ Ah me!—
_High-Priestess._ The last words that were uttered by her pallid
lips, still vibrate in my ears. “_My child_” she said, “_is young and
inexperienced, should she ever want maternal counsel, be it received from
you!_”—She spoke,—with her cold hands pressed mine, and expired. (_Cora
betrays symptoms of irresolution, and appears combating with herself.
The High-Priestess continues after a pause_) And your aged and reverend
father, when he gave you into my hands, kissed you and said, “_Take her,
she is a good girl, and will not occasion you any trouble._”—Afterwards,
when he was about to return home, when he gave you his last blessing,
while a tear trembled on his grey eye-lashes, what were his parting
words—“_Cora, honour her as a mother_.”
_Cora._ (_Falling at her feet_) I love!
_High-Priestess._ (_Starting with horror_) You love?
_Cora._ I can no longer remain a priestess of the Sun!
_High-Priestess._ No longer remain a priestess of the Sun?
_Cora._ But will marry.
_High-Priestess._ Marry!—_you_ marry!
_Cora._ The gods have given me a feeling heart.
_High-Priestess._ To be devoted to their service.
_Cora._ I was born to become a wife.
_High-Priestess._ The Sun is your husband.
_Cora._ To him I can offer only prayers and thanks; but our heart and our
love can be bestowed only on a husband.
_High-Priestess._ Cora, recollect yourself, you are in a dream.
_Cora._ I have now laid open my whole soul. If the affection you bore the
mother be indeed transferred to the daughter, you will be my friend.
_High-Priestess._ And the person you love is a Spaniard?
_Cora._ Yes.
_High-Priestess._ His name?—
_Cora._ Is Alonzo.
_High-Priestess._ When, and where, did you first see him?
_Cora._ In the Temple, by the side of our king.
_High-Priestess._ And what miracle brought you to a nearer intercourse?
_Cora._ The natural miracle which threatened the Temple with destruction,
and rent asunder the walls by which it is enclosed.
_High-Priestess._ Well, I must not know more, and let what has passed be
buried in eternal oblivion. To shew you in how high regard I hold your
mother’s memory, I will preserve your secret inviolate, and you must by
severe repentance endeavour to avert the wrath of the gods. Erase the
image of Alonzo from your heart, forget his smooth and deceitful tongue,
think of him no more, but attend to your employments and devotions.
_Cora._ You certainly have never loved?
_High-Priestess._ No, thanks be to the gods!
_Cora._ Had you ever felt one half of what I now feel, you would have
known that what you enjoin is no longer in my power. Erase the image of
Alonzo from my heart!—think of him no more!—When I awake in the morning,
he is always the first object of my thoughts, and at night when I lie
down he is still the last.—When I kneel in the temple, his name intrudes
itself into my prayers,—when I look at the image of the sun, I see only
him,—and when I would turn my thoughts to my God, I cannot detach them
from Alonzo.
_High-Priestess._ These are heavy offences, Cora!—You must fast, pray,
humble yourself.
_Cora._ I can pray for nothing but that the gods may grant me Alonzo.
Love is so soft, so exquisite a sensation that it never can be sinful.
_High-Priestess._ Sinful!—It is to be held in the utmost abhorrence.
_Cora._ Are _you_ then so entirely free from all emotions of this passion.
_High-Priestess._ I am wholly devoted to the gods.
_Cora._ In this assertion you either deceive me or yourself. Do I not
often see how tenderly you nurse and feed these birds,—taking, now this,
now that, out of the cage, setting it on your finger, stroaking it,
kissing it, talking to it?
_High-Priestess._ Poor little creatures, to love them is such an innocent
affection.
_Cora._ And my love is equally innocent.
_High-Priestess._ Love for a man!
_Cora._ The feeling is still the same!—the heart must love!—a turtle-dove
engages your affections,—am I to blame if mine are fixed on other objects.
_High-Priestess._ Do not deceive yourself, Cora. Is it a matter of
indifference, whether you employ the sacred flame only in consuming the
sacrifice, or use it to set the temple on fire?
_Cora._ I do not comprehend your simile, my heart speaks in a plain and
simple manner. I always thought that love must be pleasing to the gods,
I have made the experiment, and the event has justified my opinion. The
gods cannot be offended with me; for say, good mother, when Cora serves
in the temple, does a sudden gloom overcast the heavens, does the sun
conceal himself behind a cloud?
_High-Priestess._ No, your guilty course has been pursued only in
darkness—the rays of the great light have never witnessed your crimes.
_Cora._ Yes, they also have witnessed my love. On this very morning I
solemnly embraced Alonzo in the presence of the sun himself.
_High-Priestess._ (_With a start of horror_) Embraced Alonzo?
_Cora._ Pressed my lips, my breast, to his.
_High-Priestess._ Your lips—your breast!
_Cora._ And our god smiled upon us.
_High-Priestess._ No more, unhappy girl!—Go and conceal yourself before
I repent that I made you a promise of secrecy. It is not _your_ honour
alone that is concerned in this affair, it is the honour of our whole
order.—Go, and settle as well as you can with your heart, whether it may
find the extinction of your passion pleasing, or displeasing; only of
this be allured, that you must see Alonzo no more.
_Cora._ (_Resolutely_) I will no longer remain a priestess of the sun.
_High-Priestess._ Vain resolution!—Death only can release you from his
service.
_Cora._ But you say that I am criminal.—Well, then, I am no longer worthy
to serve the sun. If however I devote to him in my place, an innocent
creature, pure and free from sin, will not this be pleasing to him, shall
I not then have discharged my duty, and be released from my oath.
_High-Priestess._ I do not understand you.
_Cora._ The innocent creature which I bear within me shall be devoted
to the sun. (_The High-Priestess starts back, attempts to speak, but is
unable; she totters and is obliged to support herself against a chair_)
What is the matter?—Have you misunderstood me?—The innocent creature
which I bear within me shall be devoted to the sun.
_High-Priestess._ (_Running about in a phrenzy_) Idali!—Amazili!—Runa!—Ye
daughters of the Sun, hasten hither!—Ah!—I cannot support myself!—(_She
sinks down upon a chair_)