Doña Ángela. Tomás!
Dr. Tomás. In some good asylum here in Spain or abroad
Doña Ángela. What! What is it you say? Separate him from us! Take him away! He—he—never. I am his wife. I will never consent to it.
Dr. Tomás. The sight of Inés will aggravate his delirium.
Doña Ángela. Her absence would be his death.
Dr. Tomás. He smothered that poor woman to death.
Doña Ángela. There you are wrong, Tomás. With her father Inés runs no risk. She is his daughter.
Dr. Tomás. He believed Juana to be his mother.
Doña Ángela. It must not be, Tomás, it must not be. Why can't you find a way of relieving my anguish instead of torturing me so?
Dr. Tomás. Doña Ángela!
Doña Ángela. It is true, my friend, 'twould indeed be no easy matter to find consolation for such a sorrow as mine.
Dr. Tomás. There is no human sorrow inconsolable, however great it may be.
Doña Ángela. Oh, but mine is.
Dr. Tomás. Yours still less than many others. Come, let us discuss it dispassionately.
Doña Ángela. How can I, with fever running fire in my veins?
Dr. Tomás. Hear me out. If what Don Lorenzo asserts be true, if there were irrefragable proofs
Doña Ángela. Then my poor husband would not be out
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