_Chimène._ Punish the presumption of an audacious youth: he has struck
down the support of your sceptre--he has slain my father!

_Don Diego._ He has avenged his own.

_Chimène._ To the blood of his subjects a king owes justice.

_Don Diego._ For just vengeance there is no punishment.

_Don Fernando._ Rise, both of you, and speak at leisure. Chimène, I
sympathize with your sorrow; with an equal grief I feel my own soul
afflicted. (_To Don Diego._) You shall speak afterwards; do not
interrupt her complaint.

_Chimène._ Sire, my father is dead! My eyes have seen his blood gush
forth from his noble breast--that blood which has so often secured your
walls--that blood which has so often won your battles--that blood which,
though all outpoured, still fumes with rage at seeing itself shed for
any other than for you! Rodrigo, before your very palace, has just dyed
[_lit._ covered] the earth with that [blood] which in the midst of
dangers war did not dare to shed! Faint and pallid, I ran to the spot,
and I found him bereft of life. Pardon my grief, sire, but my voice
fails me at this terrible recital; my tears and my sighs will better
tell you the rest!

_Don Fernando._ Take courage, my daughter, and know that from to-day thy
king will serve thee as a father instead of him.

_Chimène._ Sire, my anguish is attended with too much [unavailing]