Florencio. You don't say! Letters of Patricio's. Addressed to whom?
Carolina. To the author of the book, so it seems. Personal letters, they are confidential. Go on, go on.
Florencio. "Dear Friend: Life is sad. Perhaps you ask the cause of my disillusionment. How is it that I have lost my faith in the future, in the future of our unfortunate land?" I remember that time. He was already ill. This letter was written after he had liver complaint and took a dark view of everything. Ah! What a pity that great men should be subject to such infirmities! Think of the intellect being made the slave of the liver! We are but dust. "The future of this unfortunate land...."
Carolina. No, that doesn't amount to anything. Lower down, lower down. Go on.
Florencio. "Life is sad!"
Carolina. Are you beginning all over again?
Florencio. No, he repeats himself. What is this? "I never loved but once in my life; I never loved but one woman—my wife." He means you.
Carolina.. Yes. Go on, go on.
Florencio "I never trusted but one friend, my friend Florencio." He means me.
Carolina. Yes, yes; he means you. But go on, go on.