Ernest. Quite.
Mercedes. [Outside, speaking low.] How dark it is!
Severo. [In same tone.] Come away, Mercedes.
Mercedes. [Crossing the threshold.] There is nobody here.
Severo. [Detaining her.] Yes, there is. [Both stand a while peering.]
Ernest. Teodora, my whole life, a thousand lives would still not be enough to offer you in return for your kindness. Don't judge me by my morose temper. I cannot lend a showy front to my affections, but, believe me, I do know how to love—and hate as well. My heart can beat to bursting under the lash of either sentiment.
Mercedes. [To Severo.] What are they saying?
Severo. Something odd, but I hear imperfectly. [Teodora and Ernest go out on the balcony, speaking low.]
Mercedes. 'Tis Ernest.
Severo. And she—I suppose—is——