Ernest. [Aside.] Hostile silence, anger, and contempt Through no fault of my own, I now appear to them a prodigy of evil and insolence, and they all despise me.
Pepito. Listen to me, Ernest. [Turns round to him and speaks in a hard voice.]
Ernest. Well.
Pepito. I have to tell you——
Ernest. To go away, perhaps.
Pepito. [Changing his tone.] Good heavens! What a notion! I only—wanted to ask you—if it is true [hunts for something to say] that you afterwards—the viscount, you know?
Ernest. [Gloomily looking away.] Yes.
Pepito. How did it happen?
Ernest. I ran downstairs—half mad—I found them—we went upstairs again—locked the door. Two men—two witnesses—two swords—and afterwards—I hardly know what happened. Swords clashed—there was a cry—a thrust—blood spouted—an assassin stood—and a man lay stretched on the ground.
Pepito. The devil! Sharp work. Did you hear, mother?