[Exit carrying in one pocket Gil Blas, in the other “Nana,” in
his buttonhole the flower, and gripped very hard the volume of
Kant.
Laz. Teresa, they have brought no letter for me?
Ter. (preparing to remove the wine and the biscuits). No, señor.
Laz. Patience: you did not tell my mother I had written to that Señor de Bermudez.
Ter. No, señor.
Laz. Has my mother got up?
Ter. Got up, indeed! Before you returned this morning from hunting, Doña Dolores had already gone to call for the Señorita Carmen that they might go to Mass together.
Ter. And I don’t know how she rose so early, nor how she found courage to go out.
Laz. Why?