Braulio. Why, the gentleman.
Don Lorenzo. [Falls back staring at him in terror; passes his hand over his forehead as if to brush away an idea; retreats still further, staggers, and leans against the table. Then speaks low and abruptly in a dead voice.] So you know everything.
Braulio. Nearly everything.
Benito. As we have been waiting here for some time, we have heard the servants talk.
Don Lorenzo. They said?
Braulio. They didn't leave us in the dark, you may be sure. It appears Don Lorenzo had an attack the night before last. You know all about it better than we do.
Don Lorenzo. [In a heavy sombre tone.] Yes.
Benito. They say he strangled a poor old woman. [Don Lorenzo recoils in horror, and covers his face with his hands.]
Braulio. There's a fellow for you! A good beginning—that's clear enough. It's always the same thing. The family
Don Lorenzo. The family! [Removes his hands from his face, walks a few steps as if shaken by an electric shock, and stares at them with keen anxiety, speaking in the same dead voiced.]
Braulio. Yes, the family—'tis natural enough.—Don't they say he wanted to give all his fortune away? ever so many millions. The devil of a lunatic altogether. Nothing else for it but what has been decided—to pack him off. We take him away and the poor ladies are left in peace.
Don Lorenzo. I!—they?—Ángela?—Inés—no, no—not possible. [Recoils again R.]
184
