Scene IV Rolla, Alone. He Pauses, and Looks After the High-Priest — Then Strikes His Forehead
Oh, my father, you know not what thoughts are brooding here!—To your powers of eloquence alone, I dare not trust a matter of this importance!—force!—force!—that is the only effectual method of persuasion.—Where can Velasquez be?—I would fain clasp him in my arms, and endeavour to communicate to his breast, an ardour equal to that which glows in mine. Yes, I will save her!—I must save her!—My mother was a Virgin of the Sun, though I must not dare to pronounce her name, lest the echoes should learn to repeat it,—to rescue Cora is a sacrifice due to her memory. Thus it is that the gods wonderfully entwine together every link in the chain of fate!—Ye powers of heaven!—you cannot be arraigned if Rolla should die poor in deeds of heroism, since you have not withheld glorious opportunities for their performance!—To give freedom to her he loves, and to present a grateful offering to his mother’s memory, are objects of such magnitude, that if they did not raise a flame within this bosom, it must have been moulded from the eternal snow on the summits of the Cordilleras.