Paca. You shall see what I am. (Goes towards the cabinet.)
Laz. No, not that way; I told you by the terrace. (Making her go out by the terrace.)
Paca. Ha, ha! Yes, I shall know it all some day. He wants to show me the way of the house (laughing).
Laz. Now quick; and first of all let Carmen come.
Paca. At once, at once; but don’t make her cry, poor little thing, poor little thing; men like to make women cry; but she—she—is such a sweet little thing. Jesus, how warm it is! [Goes out by the terrace.
Laz. (alone). I feel more confident—I find the strength flowing into my arms. To defend Carmen I need much strength. Well, I have it now. Everything is dawning—everything is rising—everything is returning. Light on the horizon, life to my muscles, and Carmen to me. Lazarus is Lazarus. The moment has arrived for the struggle—for the supreme struggle. But here one cannot struggle. Everything is soft and yielding. The carpet soft, the divans soft, the East filled with gauze and tufts of cotton wool. I want rock whereon to lean back, a sword to cut, a mace to crush—hardness, angles, metals that may offer resistance to me—and let me reduce all to powder (pressing his forehead). I feel the blood whirling round within my temples! (pressing his bosom) fire in my breast! engines of steel in my arms!
(Carmen appears on the terrace with Paca who points her out to
Lazarus, then disappears.)
Carmen!
Car. Lazarus!
Laz. (strains her frantically in his arms). Carmen, my own Carmen. Now let them say what they like, those imbeciles, and let them come to seek you.