BARTOLOME.
Cruz. And so, Bartolome, the expedition failed. But where
wast thou for the most part?
Bart. In the Guadarrama mountains, near San Ildefonso.
Cruz. And thou bringest nothing back with thee? Didst thou
rob no one?
Bart. There was no one to rob, save a party of students from
Segovia, who looked as if they would rob us; and a jolly little
friar, who had nothing in his pockets but a missal and a loaf of
bread.
Cruz. Pray, then, what brings thee back to Madrid?
Bart. First tell me what keeps thee here?
Cruz. Preciosa.
Bart. And she brings me back. Hast thou forgotten thy
promise?
Cruz. The two years are not passed yet. Wait patiently. The
girl shall be thine.
Bart. I hear she has a Busne lover.
Cruz. That is nothing.
Bart. I do not like it. I hate him,--the son of a Busne
harlot. He goes in and out, and speaks with her alone, and I
must stand aside, and wait his pleasure.
Cruz. Be patient, I say. Thou shalt have thy revenge. When
the time comes, thou shalt waylay him.
Bart. Meanwhile, show me her house.
Cruz. Come this way. But thou wilt not find her. She dances
at the play to-night.
Bart. No matter. Show me the house.
[Exeunt.