Don Lorenzo. If it were so for you, my dear Juana, how could it be a horrible shock for me?
Juana. How! But so it will be—so it will be, my son. My son! Give me leave to name you such. You are not angry with me?—truly?
Don Lorenzo. I beseech you, Juana!
Juana. Well, then, my son will I call you, and you too must call me mother. Call me mother, once. Let it please heaven or hell, mother you must name me.
Don Lorenzo. Mother!
Juana. Not so—not in that way. Cruel boy! [Leans to embrace him. Jerks herself back and falls on sofa.]
Don Lorenzo. Poor woman! She is delirious.
SCENE VIII
Juana, Don Lorenzo, and Inés. Inés rushes in C. in high spirits and approaches her father. She is excited and can hardly speak.
Inés. Father, father—the duchess—is coming. She is coming here—can't you guess?