SCENE XIII
Doña Ángela, Inés, Duchess, and Edward.
The three women in the middle of the stage, Edward listening at the closet door.
Inés. Oh, pity, Heaven, and save him.
Doña Ángela. [Embracing her.] You are right. Let us only think of him, pray for him alone.
Duchess. It is a sacred duty for you to place poor Don Lorenzo's welfare before your own happiness; but in any case, it is no less a sacred obligation to conform to a higher will than ours. [Pause.]
Inés. [To Edward.] What are they saying? Tell us, Edward, what they are saying.
Edward. He is talking; his words are cold and severe, but not in the least uncertain or troubled. [Edward returns to the door.]
Doña Ángela. What anguish! What anxiety! Death were preferable to this torture.
Inés. What can it matter what my father says since he is already judged beforehand?
Doña Ángela. Don't say such a thing, child.
Inés. I say it because I feel it to be true, and I see it in the faces of those who are now his judges.
Doña Ángela. But what—what is it you see?
Inés. In those persons the monomania of specialists.
Doña Ángela. In Tomás?
Inés. Yes his scientific opinions—whatever they may be—his own special follies
Doña Ángela. But in me, Inés?
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