Max. Sick, sick, O sick of compliments!
If I ’ve a friend here let me hear the truth!
What did that creature mean? The truth, I say!
(Silence) You, Miramon? Lopez? (Silence) Trevino ’s dead?
Lop. He is.
Max. And Rafael Mendorez?
Lop. Dead.
The woman is his widow.
Max. Oh!... And this! (Taking out message)
This from Dupin! ‘All quiet in Savarro.’
It means—
Lop. The town is ashes.
Max. O God! O God!
You ministers! Ay, ministers of hell!
Didst think ye served the devil?
Est. O, my lord—
Max. No friend! Not one! Charles! Charles! you must have known!
These foreign hearts have their excuse, but you—
The tower of confidence between us two,
Built part by part by faithful mason hours,
Is shaken to atoms!
Char. I will build it o’er!