Car. If I can’t see, neither will you see——
Dol. I shall try.
Car. Wait; I think he is coming, and with Javier.
Dol. (listening). Yes—it’s true.
Car. Are they not coming in here?
Dol. No; they have gone straight to the room of Lazarus. But don’t be uneasy; as soon as he knows that you are here, he will come to see you.
Car. Without doubt he comes back thinking of some great scene for his drama, or of some chapter of that book which he is writing and which they say is going to be a miracle of genius, or of some very intricate problem. Ah! my God, whatever you may say, a man such as he cannot concern himself very much about an insignificant girl like myself.
Dol. Again!
Car. I know nothing, I am worth nothing, I am nothing. I? What am I fit for? Tell me. To stare at him like a blockhead while he is considering these great matters; to watch at the balcony and see if he is coming, although it may be cold, and Carmen coughs incessantly; to weep if he takes no notice of me, or if they tell me that he is ill. There is no doubt that little Carmen is capable of doing wonders. To look at him, to wait for him, to weep for him.
Dol. And what more can a woman do for a man? To look at him always, to wait for him always, to weep for him always.