His love for Linda--it had been genuine of its kind--had long fled, but the wound which her vanity had inflicted in his still burned. The wish to repay Linda for her arrogance still animated him.
The hour was near.
Outside a carriage was heard, then loud, creaking steps on the wooden stairs; a hoarse, croaking woman's voice gasped out from time to time furious and incomprehensible words; the door opened and Juanita entered. Crimson, with swollen veins and sparkling eyes, she threw her fan, broken in the middle, upon the table.
In vain did Papa Harfink again and again stretch his short arms out to her and cry, "Lovely angel, calm yourself!" She had no time for love.
"To insult me!--me--me!" she beat her breast; "me, Juanita, the Marchesa Carini--bah!" she clenched her fist, "he, a criminal--a----"
"Who has insulted you, who is a criminal?" asks Raimund.
"He--he--this Lanzberg!" she gasps. "Oh, I will revenge myself--they shall see--I will revenge myself--Caro, Caro!" screams the Spaniard.
Caroline is the maid, who enters at her mistress's loud cry.
"Bring me the little black casket with the golden bird!" commands Juanita.
The maid disappears; soon she returns with the casket, which she places upon the table before her mistress, whereupon she withdraws.