Juan. Bring the sherry closer, Teresa.—Work, boy, work. Take no notice of me. Work, for it is thus that men attain success. I also in my youth have worked much. That’s the reason I look so old. (Staring at Teresa who laughs.) (Aside.) What’s that stupid girl laughing at?—(To Teresa.) Now, you may go. I don’t want you. The Gil Blas! (Unfolds it and begins to read it.) Let us have a look at these wretched little newspapers.... (affecting contempt.) I told you to go.—(To Teresa.)—Let’s see, let’s see. (Reads.)
Ter. Yes, señor. (She remains for awhile looking at the two, and turns towards the door in the back centre.)
Laz. (rising). Teresa—
Ter. Señorito—
Laz. Come here and speak lower: let us not disturb your master, who is reading. Did you take the letter which I gave you this morning?
Ter. Yes, señorito, I took it myself. Whatever you require me to do, señorito!...
Laz. Good. It was for Señor Bermudez, eh?
Ter. Yes, señorito. That doctor who has such a great name, who has come from Madrid for a few days to cure Don Luciano Barranco—the same who, they say, is either mad or not mad. (Laughing.)
Laz. (starting, then restraining himself). Ah! Yes. Quite so; the same. And did you see him? Did you hand him the letter? Did he give you the answer? Where is it? Come, quick!
Ter. Eh, señorito—