Don Lorenzo. What poor gentleman?
Benito. [Without looking at him.] The gentleman who is—— [Touches his forehead, still not looking at Don Lorenzo, who, unobserved by the keepers, makes a gesture of surprise.]
Don Lorenzo. [Aside.] Ah—no—what an idea! [Aloud, with an effort of self-control.] Just so. She is the daughter of—— [Observes them with increasing anxiety.]
Benito. Well, she is very beautiful, though so sad.
Braulio. 'Tis reason enough she has to be sad.
Don Lorenzo. You know——?
Braulio. Everything. [Looks a moment at Don Lorenzo and then away.]
Don Lorenzo. Dr. Tomás told you?
Benito. Not to us.
Braulio. He told the doctor.