Doña Ángela. Don't say such a thing, child.
Inés. I say it because I feel it to be true, and I see it in the faces of those who are now his judges.
Doña Ángela. But what—what is it you see?
Inés. In those persons the monomania of specialists.
Doña Ángela. In Tomás?
Inés. Yes—his scientific opinions—whatever they may be—his own special follies——
Doña Ángela. But in me, Inés?
Inés. [Embracing her.] Your love of me.
Doña Ángela. Hush, child, hush!
Inés. They are all against my father, every one. Poor father!