Whose fiery breath fans every passion's flame,
Whose very spirit fosters violence.
Where lends the name of foe a welcome pretext
To every crime, to robbery and rape,
Where oft the reins of rigid discipline
Must purposely be slackened to incite
The animal propensities of man,—
A woman, void of every guardian's care,
A woman, known to be an enemy,
Inevitably must fall a luckless victim
To wicked lust—
Elsie.
[Falls on her knees, and imploringly holds up her hands.]
Oh, spare my womanhood!
Santa Anna.
And be the abject property of all!
Elsie.
Knave! Fiend! now first thou stand'st revealed to me
In thy true light! Hast thou no fear of Heaven,
Of retribution in the Life hereafter?
Santa Anna.
[Sneeringly.]
That knave, that fiend rejoices in his power,
And mocks the scorn of idle impotence,
