Operas Every Child Should Know

"Do not speak. A man does not fear when he is in danger of losing the woman he loves." He began to sing softly:

[Listen]

On the light of her sweet glances,
Joy celestial beameth upon me.

It was a love song to Leonora, who, within the convent, was about to bury herself from all the world, believing Manrico to be dead. As the light of day slowly flushed the scene, a bell sounded from the chapel tower.

"That bell, Ferrando!"

"It is to summon the nuns to prayer. They will pass this way."

"Now to rescue her!" Di Luna motioned to his men, who had lain concealed in the shadows. "She is coming," he whispered, watching the convent door, while a weird chant floated out. The nuns were singing. While di Luna watched, Leonora came from the convent with her beloved friend, Inez, who was weeping.

"Why weep, Inez?" Leonora asked, gently.

"In another hour shall we not be forever parted?"

"Have no regrets for me, dear sister. There is no longer any happiness for me in this life, since Manrico is dead. Come, weep no more. Let us go to the altar."

"No," di Luna cried, rushing upon her, while the nuns from the convent screamed:

"Sacrilege! Help!" They struggled, and the Count's men rushed up to help him. The Count had overcome Leonora and was about to flee with her, when Manrico leaped into the midst of the fight. His men set upon the Count's men, while Manrico himself lifted Leonora and ran off with her.

His men vanquished the Count's. Leonora believed herself in Heaven upon finding herself in Manrico's arms, and as he carried her away he cried to di Luna that he would be revenged upon him. Then he fled to Castellar.

ACT III

At last this tragedy began to see daylight, inasmuch as the third act began in broad day with the banner of the Count floating from his tent, pitched before the ramparts of Castellar, which could be seen in the distance. Soldiers were moving about, brightening their armour, and a band of strong crossbow-men crossed the ravine behind the camp.

"Those are the troops to reinforce us," some of the soldiers sang out.

"We shall vanquish Castellar then, without delay," others cried; and then comes a famous soldiers' chorus. The Count di Luna came from his tent and looked off toward the grim stronghold of Castellar.

"Thy day is over," he said, vindictively, thinking of Manrico, who, with Leonora, in the castle, was defending the domain. His thoughts were interrupted by a commotion in the camp.

"What is the trouble there?" he asked Ferrando, who came from the hill.

"A wandering gipsy has been found near the camp, and the men believe her to be a spy from Castellar. They have arrested her, and are bringing her to you, Count," he announced as Azucena appeared with some men.

"Let me go!" she screamed, struggling to get away from her captors.

"Bring her here," di Luna said, and they released her before him.

"Where is your home?"

"Not here," she replied sullenly.

"Well, where?"

"The gipsy has no home; she wanders. I come from Biscay, if you must know."

Biscay! Di Luna started at the word. Ferrando looked at him quickly.

"Say, old hag, how long hast thou been among the Biscay mountains? Dost thou remember that many years ago – fifteen – a young child was stolen from a noble, by one of thy people?"

"What is that you say?" she screamed in fright.

"I say the child was my brother."

She stared at him in horror. "Well," she muttered, "thy tale is no concern of mine." But Ferrando, who had been watching her closely, believed he recognized her features.

"Count, do not let her go – it is the murderess herself; she who threw thy brother upon the fire."

"Ah, my God!" The Count cried, shrinking away from her. "Let me punish her. To the stake with her!" and she was instantly surrounded by the men.

She twisted and screamed, calling upon Manrico to come and save his mother, but Manrico was in the castle of Castellar defending it and Leonora from the Count below. He was about to marry the Countess and they were even at that moment on their way to the chapel. They entered the great hall, whose windows opened out upon the horrid scene below, where Azucena was to be burned at the stake. It was now dusk, and the clamour of battle could be plainly heard, within the hall. Leonora, being frightened, asked Manrico if the trouble would never end.

"Banish all sad thoughts, Leonora; our soldiers will win and it will soon be over. Think only of joyful things. We shall live and be happy." The organ sounded from the chapel. "That calls us to our marriage," Manrico said, leading her toward the chapel door, but as they were about to enter, Ruiz rushed in.

"Manrico! Look out – that gipsy." He pointed frantically out of the window. Manrico looked, and there he saw his old mother being tied to the stake, the fagots being piled about her. He yelled with horror.

"Leonora! It is my mother. She was my mother before I loved thee. I go to save her. Call our men, Ruiz, I follow!" Embracing Leonora, he rushed wildly away, while the trumpets of war were heard, and the din of battle began.

ACT IV

Back at Aliaferia, Manrico was held prisoner. All was gloom and darkness again, with the prison tower where Manrico was confined looming near, its bars seeming very sinister, the evening more forbidding by contrast with that first moonlight night, when he had sung to Leonora in the gardens.

Leonora, protected by Ruiz, the faithful servant, stole from the shadows, while Ruiz tried to reconnoitre and spy out where Manrico was hidden. The Countess was worn with fear and trouble. While they stood there, outside the prison, the "Miserere" was dolorously chanted. The sound was ominous.

"They chant prayers for the dead!" she whispered, and then the bell tolled.

"It is the bell for the dead," she whispered again, fainting with despair. "What voices of horror. My God! death is very near;" and she stood listening. Then, mingling with the death chant, the troubadour's glorious voice floated out upon the night.

[Listen]

Ah send thy beams, Aurora,
Light me to early death,
Waft her my longing,
Waft her my latest breath!
I leave thee, Leonora, ah, I leave thee!

It was the doomed Manrico singing, from his prison, while waiting, wearily, for the dawn.

It was a fearful hour: The death song! The bell for the dead, the lonely troubadour's voice, and prayer for the dead, sounding through the night.

As Leonora listened, her anguish became too great to bear, and she resolved to save his life or die. Then di Luna came, accompanied by his men; he was giving hurried orders: