Cres. (aside). I shall do better now. (Aloud.) Pooh, why, what the deuce could I have done with him at home here all his life—a lout—a scape-grace perhaps. Let him go serve his king.
Isab. Leaving us by night too!
Cres. Better than by day, child, at this season—Pooh!—— (Aside.) I must hold up before them.
Isab. Come, sir, let us in.
Ines. No, no, cousin, e’en let us have a little fresh air now the soldiers are gone.
Cres. True—and here I may watch my Juan along the white, white road. Let us sit.
(They sit.)
Isab. Is not this the day, sir, when the Town Council elects its officers?
Cres. Ay, indeed, in August—so it is. And indeed this very day.
(As they talk together, the Captain, Sergeant, Rebolledo, and Chispa steal in.)