fused noise of chaotic vibrations. But nothing more irritating, more insolent, meaner than this insolent pen of mine [throws it away], nothing worse than this white sheet of paper. Oh, if I cannot fill it, at least I may destroy it—vile accomplice of my ambition and my eternal humiliation. Thus, thus … smaller and still smaller. [Tears up paper. Pauses.] And then! How lucky that nobody saw me! For in truth such fury is absurd and unjust. No, I will not yield. I will think and think, until either I have conquered or am crushed. No, I will not give up. Let me see, let me see … if in that way
SCENE II
Ernest. Don Julian on the right, in evening-dress, with overcoat upon his arm.
D. Julian. [At the door, without entering.] I say, Ernest!
Ernest. Don Julian!
D. Julian. Still working? Do I disturb you?
Ernest. [Rising.] Disturb me! What a question, Don Julian! Come in, come in. And Teodora? [Don Julian enters.]
D. Julian. We have just come from the Opera. She has gone upstairs with my brother, to see something or other that Mercedes has bought, and I was on my way to my room when I saw your light, so I stopped to say good-night.
Ernest. Was there a good house?
D. Julian. As usual. All our friends inquired after you. They wondered you were not there too.
Ernest. That was kind of them.
D. Julian. Not more than you deserve. And how have
4
