Doña Ángela. Still, a law that I respect above all others.
Don Lorenzo. [Nervous, unquiet, almost irritable.] And you don't resist it? You don't struggle against it?
Dr. Tomás. Your conduct is that of a man of honour. Strictly speaking, there is nothing else for you to do.
Don Lorenzo. What unheard-of submission! What extraordinary docility! What a sudden change! You are deceiving me. I tell you, you are lying to me. [Violently.]
Doña Ángela. For pity's sake, Lorenzo.
Dr. Tomás. [Aside.] Ah, there is no hope. Like a black wave dementia has spread over his mind.
Don Lorenzo. [More calmly.] Well, well, better so. [Pause. Approaches Doña Ángela affectionately.] Where is Inés?
Doña Ángela. My poor child!
Don Lorenzo. You don't defend her against me? [Then gently.] Nevertheless, it is your duty.
Doña Ángela. Alas, Lorenzo, what strength has your wretched wife to use against you? Your will grows iron in strife and calamity; mine bends to the very dust.