Don Lorenzo. Forgive me.
Juana. [Tragically.] You accuse me of having committed an infamy?
Don Lorenzo. I have not said it.
Juana. [In stifled voice.] But it was for your sake—for your sake, my son. [Don Lorenzo remains silent and gloomy, not looking toward his mother.] My God, I did it for his sake, and this is how he repays me! Lorenzo!
Don Lorenzo. Wrong may not prevail. The work of iniquity must fall into ruins beneath its own weight. My sacrifice will serve to wipe out your sin.
Juana. Lorenzo! [Don Lorenzo draws her to the light and places the letter in her hand, obliging her to read it.]
Don Lorenzo. What does it say there?
Juana. [Sits down and reads with difficulty.] 'Forgive me, and may God inspire you.'
Don Lorenzo. Well, mother, I have forgiven her, and prayed to Heaven for inspiration. Your entreaties are vain.