Don Lorenzo. [Seizing his arm.] Madman! The pallor of crime, the tears of remorse, the consciousness of one's own infamy.
Edward. And this infamy, this remorse, this crime would lie in furthering your daughter's happiness?
Don Lorenzo. [Despairingly.] It should not be—but so it is nevertheless. [Pause.] And this makes my torment. This is the idea that will drive me mad.
Inés. No, no, father. You must not say that. Do what you think best without thought of me. What does it matter whether I live or die?
Don Lorenzo. Inés!
Inés. Only, do not be uncertain in it—above all, do not let others see your uncertainty. Let your speech be clear and persuasive, as it is now, and do not let worry blind you. Be calm, father. I implore you by all that is sacred.
Don Lorenzo. What do you mean? I do not understand.
Inés. Do I myself know rightly what I mean? Adieu, adieu. I cannot bear to grieve you.
Edward. [To Don Lorenzo.] Alas, if 'twere possible for you to take counsel with your heart, and silence the prompting of thought.
Inés. [To Edward.] Do not vex him. Come with me—if you thwart him maybe 'twill force his hate.