A lot so happy I do not deserve!

These vicious lips of mine will never dare

Repeat your holy supplications; I

But from afar with reverence do look

On you, when, bowing silently, you spread

Your raven tresses o'er the pallid marble -

And then it seems to me that secretly

An angel has alighted on this tomb.

Within my troubled heart it is not prayers

That I find then. I stand in speechless wonder

And think - Oh! happy man, whose chilly marble

Is warmed with breath from her celestial lips

And with the tears of her great love bedewed.

DONA ANNA. Strange words are these!

DON JUAN. - Senora?

DONA ANNA. - Said to me!...

You have forgotten...

DON JUAN. - What? That I am only

A wretched hermit? That my sinful voice

Should not resound so loudly in this place?

DONA ANNA. It seemed to me... I did not under-

stand...

DON JUAN. Aha! I see; you have discovered all!

DONA ANNA. I have discovered! What?

DON JUAN. - That I'm no monk...

451.

And at your feet I humbly beg your pardon.

DONA ANNA. O Heavens! Pray get up! Who are you

then?

DON JUAN. Unhappy victim of a hopeless passion!

DONA ANNA. O God in Heaven! Here, before this tomb!

Begone!...

DON JUAN. A minute, Dona Anna, pray

A single minute!

DONA ANNA. - But if someone comes!...

DON JUAN. The gate is locked. A single minute, pray!

DONA ANNA. Well, come! What is it that you wish for?

DON JUAN. - Death!

Oh, let me die this instant at your feet,