Juan (walking about). From this day I have to mortify myself—on bread and water, like an anchorite—all for Lazarus. Come, is not this to be put to my credit?
Dol. Yes; but much prudence. Let nobody know anything.
Juan. Nothing. Our journeys will be journeys of pleasure; artistic voyages, that Lazarus may see the world and gain instruction. If all these were false terrors!
Dol. Not a word to anybody.
Juan. Not to Carmen—say nothing to Carmen.
Dol. Poor Carmen, my poor angel! But you are right. The first is Lazarus.
Juan. The first—that’s clear. But that girl does not come, and I am choking.
Enter Teresa and Don Timoteo.
Ter. (announcing, and with the glass of water). Here is Don Timoteo.
Juan. Let him come in.