Petra. What does the Señora wish?
Doña Laura. You are carrying away the bread crumbs.
Petra. Very true. I don't know where my head is.
Doña Laura [smiling]. I do. It is where your heart is—with your guard.
Petra. Here, Señora. [She hands Doña Laura a small bag. Exit Petra.]
Doña Laura. Adios. [Glancing toward trees.] Here come the rogues. They know just when to expect me. [She rises, walks toward right, throws three handfuls of bread crumbs.] These are for the most daring, these for the gluttons, and these for the little ones which are the biggest rogues. Ha, ha. [She returns to her seat and watches with a pleased expression, the pigeons feeding.] There, that big one is always the first. That little fellow is the least timid. I believe he would eat from my hand. That one takes his piece and flies to that branch. He is a philosopher. But from where do they all come? It seems as if the news had been carried. Ha, ha. Don't quarrel. There is enough for all. To-morrow I'll bring more.
[Enter Don Gonzalo and Juanito. Don Gonzalo is an old gentleman over 70, gouty and impatient. He leans upon Juanito's arm and drags his feet along as he walks. He displays ill temper.]
Don Gonzalo. Idling their time away. They should be saying Mass.
Juanito. You can sit here, Señor. There is only a lady.
[Doña Laura turns her head and listens to the dialogue.]