Ernest. None whatever.
D. Julian. I don't annoy you?
Ernest. You! good heavens! [Rises and comes toward him effusively.] You speak out of the right of friendship and affection, and you read me through and through. Yes, sir; there is indeed something the matter. I will tell you, if you, and you also, Teodora, out of your pity, will hold me excused. I am an ungrateful fool, a mere boy, in truth, deserving neither of your kindness nor of your affection. Possessing such a father and such a sister, I ought to be happy, with no care for the morrow. But it is not so. I blush to explain it,—can't you understand?—Yes, yes, you must see how false my position is. I live here on alms. [With energy.]
Teodora. Such a word——
Ernest. Teodora!
Teodora. Affronts us.
Ernest. I expressed myself ill—but it is so.
D. Julian. I say it is not so. If any one in this house lives upon alms, and those no slight ones, it is I and not you.
Ernest. I am acquainted, sir, with the story of two loyal friends, and of some money matters long forgotten. It does honour to my father and to his hidalgic race. But I am shamed in profiting by it. I am young, Don Julian, and although I may not be worth much, there ought still to be some way for me to earn my bread. It may be pride or folly, I cannot say. But I remember what my father used to say: 'What you can do yourself, never ask another to do. What you can earn, never owe to any one else.'
D. Julian. So that my services humiliate and degrade you. You count your friends importunate creditors.