I yielded freely to my inspiration;

The words flowed forth, as though it was the heart,

And not the timid memory, gave them birth.

FIRST GUEST. 'Tis true; and even now your eyes are shin-

ing,

Your cheeks are burning - no, your ecstasy

Has not yet faded. Laura, let it not

Grow cold before it bear some fruit: pray, Laura,

Do sing us something!

LAURA. - Give me my guitar. (Sings.)

ALL. Ah, brava! bravai Wonderful! Superb!

FIRST GUEST. Our thanks, enchantress! You have cast a

spell

Upon our hearts. Among the joys of life,

To love alone does music yield the prize;

But love itself is melody.... Behold:

Carlos himself, your surly guest, is touched!

SECOND GUEST. What harmonies! And how much soul

therein!

Who wrote the words, dear Laura?

LAURA. - Don Juan.

DON CARLOS. What? Don Juan?

LAURA. - Some time or other he,

My loyal friend - and fickle lover - wrote them.

DON CARLOS. Your Don Juan's an atheist and a rascal;

While you, you're but a fool.

LAURA. - Have you gone mad?

Grandee of Spain though you may be, I'll bid

My servants cut your throat straightway for this.

DON CARLOS. (Gets up.) Well, call them then.

FIRST GUEST. - No, Laura, do not do it;

Don Carlos, don't be angered. She forgot...

LAURA. Forgot? That Don Juan in single combat

Quite honorably killed his brother? True,

'Twere better he had killed Don Carlos.