Bev. Speak, sir.
Man. The lady is right, I did burn the paper.
Mad. L. Great Heavens!
[All rise.
Man. But she is mistaken as to the purport of the document.
Bev. Upon my soul this is a little too strong.
Mad. L. Oh, Monsieur Manuel, do not tell me you have so far abused our confidence. Do not tell me that one whom I had begun to love almost as a son, has fallen low enough to commit so vile an act. I am an old woman, sir, and in the course of nature, you must outlive me. My child is provided for. You shall share with me while I live, and all I have shall be yours at last if you will but refute this, if you will but give me the joy of knowing you are innocent.
Mons. N. Come sir, this painful matter may be set at rest, perhaps, if you will tell us the content of that paper.
Des. Manuel, my son.
Mad. L. Oh! for my sake!