Dr. Tomás. Yes; we were listening to part of your philosophical monologue. What has provoked these sublime self-revealings of my good friend?
Don Lorenzo. I have been reading Don Quixote, and it has gone to my head, and there got mixed with the other tags of modern philosophy which are floating about, as my hard-hearted doctor would say, in the cells of grey substance.
Dr. Tomás. So would anybody else say who wished to talk the language of reason.
Doña Ángela. How dreadful! Are you two going to begin one of your interminable discussions on positivism, idealism, and all the other isms of the dictionary, which are so many abysses for common sense?
Dr. Tomás. Don't be afraid, madam. I have something more interesting to say to Lorenzo.
Don Lorenzo. [To Dr. Tomás.] And I have also something more urgent to ask you.
Doña Ángela. I should think so indeed. Our child's health is surely more interesting and urgent than the follies and delusions with which your head is crammed.
Don Lorenzo. [Anxiously.] How is my beloved girl to-day?
Doña Ángela. Yes, how do you find Inés? [Pause.]
Don Lorenzo. Do tell us. Don't keep us in suspense. [Pause. Dr. Tomás shakes his head ominously.]