Torr. Can’t it be put off?
Alon. ’Tis useless saying more. Daughters, such a ceremony happens, perhaps, but once in a life; you must see it. On with your mantles, whether Don Torribio approve or not. I am lame, you see, and must keep at home; to hear about it all from you on your return.
Clara. At your pleasure, sir.
Eug. Shall I stay with you, sir, while Clara—
Alon. No, no. Both of you go.
Clara. (aside to Mari, while putting on her mantle). Remember the letter!
Mari. Trust to me.
Eug. (aside). I wonder if they will be there!
[Exeunt all but Torribio.
Torr. Whether the Queen enter to-day,