Rodriguez—No.
Lagrimas—I can hear them plainly. The señor is a constant lover; she will yield to him soon.... What has stopped thine ears?
Rodriguez—The beating of my heart.
Lagrimas—A soldier's heart—(stops suddenly.)
Rodriguez—Hast thou lost something?
Lagrimas—It is no matter. I do not want it back.
(Looks fixedly at his coat until he fidgets.)
Rodriguez—Why dost thou stare? Is my coat—?
Lagrimas—What I lost, it has gone inside thy breast. I saw it.
Rodriguez—(Bewildered.) I—oh—what is it?