Juan. Why, nothing more was required.
Tim. But he is not coming.
Re-enter Javier and Lazarus; the latter pale, disordered, and
materially dragged along by the former.
Laz. Where are you taking me? Where?
Jav. Come, Man, Come ... To Happiness!
Laz. What’s this? What do they want with me? Why do they call me?
Tim. Tableau! Carmen is yours! I bring her to you! You are to be married! (To Don Juan.) Eh! you father of a cork-tree, say something to them; I have gone through all my part!
Laz. Carmen—she—is it true? My Carmen!
Dol. Your Carmen—she is yours.
Juan. What the devil! She is yours—be happy, and let the world founder! what do I care for the world!