Dr. Tomás. Poor fellow! [Steps towards Don Lorenzo, changes his mind and goes up C.] Why should I? Let us make an end of it.
[Exeunt Dr. Tomás and servant.]
SCENE XI
Don Lorenzo. Afterwards Dr. Tomás and Dr. Bermúdez.
Don Lorenzo. Now am I calmer. The hurt is mortal. I feel it—here at the heart's core. Thanks, Almighty consoler. [Dr. Tomás and Dr. Bermúdez enter C. and stand watching him.]
Dr. Tomás. You see him there—beside the arm-chair.
Bermúdez. Unfortunate man!
Don Lorenzo. [Rising. Aside.] Ah, miserable being—still, still—cherishing impossible hopes. Impossible! And suppose they honestly believe that I——? Oh, but if they loved me, surely they would not believe it. [Despairingly. Pause.] Did I not hear Inés—the child I so greatly love—speak of remorse? Why should she speak of remorse? [Aloud with increasing agitation.] All of them—wretches!—They would almost rejoice at my death. No, then I will not die, no, not until I have fulfilled my duty as an honourable man, not before I have brought the question of my madness to an end.
Dr. Tomás. [Placing a hand upon his arm.] Lorenzo.
Don Lorenzo. [Turning, recognises him, and retreats angrily.] He!