Act 1 — SCENE XV

Don Lorenzo, Ángela, Inés, the Duchess, Edward, and

Dr. Tomás.

Duchess. [With exquisite courtesy.] Señor de Avendaña.

Don Lorenzo. Avendaña, Avendaña! I don't know where he is, madam. [In sombre absent tone.]

Doña Ángela. [Aside.] What is he saying?

Inés. Goodness, what does this mean?

Duchess. I understand, Señor de Avendaña, how unwelcome must be my visit, since I come to claim of you the 133most precious of your possessions [points to Inés], and certainly it is not surprising that you should receive me as an enemy. [Sweetly.]

Don Lorenzo. Fate is my enemy, nobody else, madam.

Inés. [Aside.] Oh, what can have happened?

Duchess. You are right. It is the ruthless enemy of the parents.

Don Lorenzo. Still more so of the children.

Duchess. I do not deny it. But in spite of it, 'tis divine law that governs our human sorrows, and we are forced to respect it. [Makes an effort to turn the conversation, but does not conceal her wonderment.]

Don Lorenzo. Ah, madam, those laws might often prove less cruel if it were only human cruelty that dictated them. [The duchess evinces marked impatience. Edward approaches her. Inés goes to her father, while Doña Ángela and Dr. Tomás look on gloomily.]

Inés. [Aside to Don Lorenzo.] Father, I entreat you——

Edward. [Aside to Duchess.] For my sake, mother.

Duchess. [Haughtily and dryly.] I am a mother, and I adore my son. I know that happiness is not possible for him without this young lady, and rather than lose one child I prefer to gain two.

Inés. [To Don Lorenzo.] See how kind she is, father.

Don Lorenzo. To lose a son were a terrible misfortune.

Duchess. [Gently and approaching Don Lorenzo.] Will you not consent to bestow also the name of son upon my boy?

Inés. [In low voice of entreaty.] Answer, father.

Don Lorenzo. [Looks sadly at his daughter, takes her 134head between his hands, and contemplates her yearningly.] How sweet you are! It seems incredible that you should not prove stronger than the law of honour.

Duchess. [Unable to control herself.] To make an end of the matter, Señor de Avendaña, do you wish my son, the Duke of Almonte, to give his name to your daughter Inés?

Don Lorenzo. [In magnificent fury.] If I were a scoundrel, madam, this were an excellent occasion for procuring an honest name for my nameless child.

Inés. Father!

Dr. Tomás. Doña Ángela.}Lorenzo!

Duchess. I must frankly confess that I can make nothing of your answers nor of your attitude, which is quite other than what I had expected. I will content myself with asking for the last time—do you consent?

Don Lorenzo. I am an honourable man. Misfortune may conquer me, but it will never disgrace me. Your Grace, this marriage is impossible.

Duchess. [Offended, retreats a step.] Ah!

Inés. What do you say, father? Impossible!

Don Lorenzo. Yes, impossible. For I am not Avendaña. My parents were not my parents. This house is not my house. To you, my dearest girl, I can only give a soiled and an unworthy name,—because I am the wretchedest of men and I do not wish to be the basest.

Inés. Father, father—oh, why are you killing me? [Falls into a chair.]

Doña Ángela. What have you done, you madman?

Don Lorenzo. Inés, my child! Thou hast conquered, O God; but have pity on me.

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