Don Lorenzo. [Aside, wondering.] In every house!
Benito. [Looking for the first time at Don Lorenzo, and again looking steadily in front of him.] Can she be that poor gentleman's daughter,—eh?
Don Lorenzo. What poor gentleman?
Benito. [Without looking at him.] The gentleman who is [Touches his forehead, still not looking at Don Lorenzo, who, unobserved by the keepers, makes a gesture of surprise.]
Don Lorenzo. [Aside.] Ah—no—what an idea! [Aloud, with an effort of self-control.] Just so. She is the daughter of [Observes them with increasing anxiety.]
Benito. Well, she is very beautiful, though so sad.
Braulio. 'Tis reason enough she has to be sad.
Don Lorenzo. You know?
Braulio. Everything. [Looks a moment at Don Lorenzo and then away.]
Don Lorenzo. Dr. Tomás told you?
Benito. Not to us.
Braulio. He told the doctor.
Benito. Why should he talk to us? We, in doing our duty
Don Lorenzo. [Aside.] All my body is bathed in a cold sweat, like the sweat of death. I am raving—This can't possibly be true. [Repeats mechanically.] In doing your duty
Braulio. We are here on the look-out in case he should become obstreperous.
Don Lorenzo. In case he should become obstreperous?—who?
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