Pedro—Curse my alluring face!
Feliciana—Nay, Pedro, thou canst show it to me at intervals, and I will let thee have a little peep at my ankles. It will refresh us in our modesty.
(General withdraws to side of stage.)
Pedro—Tsch! It is all an invention of thine to make me suffer for scolding thee. These tales of succumbing maidens are false. Thou dost know Señora Jacinta is a child of ten, and Lagrimas hath bestowed her heart ... elsewhere.
Feliciana—Jacinta will grow up, and Lagrimas is free. She must be protected from thy subtle charms.
Pedro—Lagrimas is not free. She hath a lover who is mad for her.
Feliciana—The lover hath been discarded, Lagrimas will none of him.
General—(Aside.) Santissima Maria, my son!
Feliciana—Now, I will not have thee create havoc. Thou must hide thy loveliness behind a veil, or thou too shalt be discarded, and the city can mock thee also.
(General arises in silent rage and walks back and forth.)