D. Julian. You have my heart ever—who are its magnet and its centre. But my mind is apt to be besieged by preoccupations, cares, business
Teodora. They are the plague of my life, since they rob me, if not of my husband's affections, at least of some of his attention. But what is the matter, Julian? [Affectionately.] Something worries you. Is it serious, that you are so solemn and so silent? If it should be trouble, Julian, remember that I have a right to share it. My joys are yours, and your sorrows are no less mine.
D. Julian. Sorrows! Troubles! Are you not happy? Do I not possess in you the living embodiment of joy? With those cheeks so ruddy in the glow of health, and those dear eyes, clear like your soul and resplendent as the sky, and I the owner of all you, could pain, or shadow, or grief teach me I am other than the happiest man alive?
Teodora. It is a business annoyance, perhaps?
D. Julian. Money never yet forced sleep or appetite to forsake me. I have never felt aversion, much less contempt for it, so it follows that the article has flowed easily into my coffers. I was rich, I am rich; and until Don Julian of Garagarga dies of old age, please God and his own good fortune, he will remain, if not the wealthiest, certainly the surest, banker of Madrid, Cadiz, and Oporto.
Teodora. Then what is your preoccupation?
D. Julian. I was thinking—'tis a good thought, too.
Teodora. Naturally, since 'tis yours.
D. Julian. Flatterer! you would spoil me.
Teodora. But I am still unenlightened.
D. Julian. There is an important matter I want to achieve.
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