Jerome. I am sorry for your misfortune.
Marquis. Don Antonio, this treatment I suppose you inflict as a just recompence for my presumption in daring to hope for an alliance in your family, spite of the prejudice which I knew the Countess had conceived—I cannot deny the justice of the accusation—I came into her house with the vain hope——
Countess. By no means vain —I am ready to comply, be your hopes what they will.
Marquis. Can I believe what you say real?
Countess. Certainly—Were you going to say you hoped to marry me? If you were, call the Priest, and we'll be married immediately.
Antonio. Aye, if that is what your Lordship wants, the Priest shall tack you together in five minutes.
Marquis. This sudden consent staggers me—I was not prepared for it—one likes a little preparation before marriage as well as before death. ( Aside. )
Countess. What! you are cast down—alarmed—want to recant—but I won't let you—You shall marry me—I insist upon it.
Marquis. What, directly?
Countess. Yes, directly—I am in a hurry.