Dol. Don’t be distressed. Don’t you see that you will not have energy to struggle?
Juan. I’ll not have energy? Ah! you’ll see. Ho! ho! I have no energy!
Dol. I love to see you thus. And believe me that Bermudez exaggerates.
Juan. He is a fanatic—a buffoon—a madman that can’t co-ordinate two ideas. Ah, blockhead. (Shaking his fist.) I don’t know how I keep my head. My breast is burning. My throat is dry. (Pulls the bell.) Teresa! eh! Teresa!
Dol. (calling). Teresa! (Turning to Juan.) What’s the matter?
Juan. Nothing—nothing.
Teresa entering.
Ter. Señor?
Juan. Bring me a glass of sherry. No, a glass of water—water only.
Ter. Yes, señor. [Exit.