V.: I come to you, Sancho, because I am most unhappy.
S.: (With pleasure.) You, most unhappy!
V.: Yes. If you knew——
S.: And what has happened to you? Let me know—but allow me to close this door because a draught enters. (He bolts the door that communicates with the interior and through which Blanca had passed.) Ah, well! sir! what makes you unhappy? It seems incredible; a man, powerful, rich, immensely rich, cradled from infancy in the arms of fortune—Perhaps, your wife!——
V.: My wife?—No! My wife has never been able to make me unhappy, just as she has never made me happy. We have never loved. I married her for family reasons and, in fine——
S.: I do not understand, then——
V.: Hear me, Sancho! For many years my only good, my only joy, my sole delight in this world, has been a lovely girl——
S.: Yes, yes,—a lovely girl who has grown up, receiving her education, in the Convent of Seville.
V.: You know it! (Profoundly surprised.)
S.: And whom you brought with you to Mexico, two years ago.