Xavier. What?
Lázaro. Now I am—half asleep—how do I look?
Xavier. Very poetical.
Lázaro. Good. Thanks—very poetical. [Dreamily.]
The second act is somewhat livelier, and contains more spirited contrasts. That Echegaray could excel in lighter comedy may be seen in an amusing scene between the serious son and the dissipated, good-natured father.
Don Juan is alone with his son, who is walking restlessly about. The father asks his son what he is thinking of, and then apologises for disturbing weighty thought. Lázaro listlessly replies that his imagination was wandering, and he wandering after it. When he has received many assurances of not being in the poet's way, Don Juan calls for sherry, the Parisian newspapers, and Nana. Caught laughing over Nana, he asserts his horror of immoral books, and his conviction that literature is going to the dogs.
There is here a little humorous by-play between the servant and Don Juan, and afterwards a reference to the lugubrious theme in converse between her and Lázaro, whose listlessness, courtesy and musing, make an admirable relief against the alert and fussy affection and frivolity of his father.
Don Juan. Ha, ha! witty, exceedingly witty. Full of salt; hot as red pepper. Gil Blas is the only paper worth reading.
Lázaro. An interesting article? What is it about? Let me see.
xxv
