Dol. (changing her tone and feigning merriment). I feel amused, very much amused at the frolics of those three venerable old men.
Car. Papa is not yet an old man.
Dol. He is not: but what a life he has led. (Recollecting herself.) So laborious—his business—his commerce—the same as Juan.
Car. Ah yes. Parents are all alike, killing themselves for their children. And Papa is very good. He loves me—my God! At night he gets up I don’t know how many times and listens at the door of my room to know if I am coughing, so that I, who hear him, stifle the cough with my handkerchief or with the bed-clothes; but sometimes I am not able—it is that I am choking. (Coughs.)
Dol. (to Teresa who has been meanwhile taking away bottles, ash-trays, waiters’ trays, and who has entered and gone out several times). Open the balcony! Let in the fresh, pure air. No, wait. (To Carmen.) You could not bear the sensation, my poor little one. Come. (Taking her by the hand.)
Car. Where to?
Dol. While the room is being ventilated you must remain like a quiet little girl behind this curtain. (Placing her behind the curtain to the right.) A quiet little girl, eh? Afterwards you shall enter.
Car. (laughing). Are you leaving me in punishment?
Dol. In punishment! Your father is very indulgent, I am very severe.
Car. Good; but your punishment does not last long.