He rises.
Cardenos. Assuredly!
Cleofas. Between us, this Olivera is to be watched, Cardenos—I am sure he believes more in the devil and witches than he does in medicine.
Cardenos. What is your reason?
Cleofas. Oh! nothing—He smells of it and I advise you to watch him—I said then—where was I?
Cardenos. You spoke of Pétronille.
Cleofas. Ah! yes, my governor! Do you believe that this wretch would, without consulting me, let himself be conducted to Zoraya’s home? Seeing him lively and apparently cured, I said: “Ha, my hartshorn powders?”—“No such thing!” he replied. “It was not your powders—it was a remedy which the Moorish woman gave me!—Swindler! pick up your packets and leave at once.”—It is better for me to work myself to death giving my own remedies than to deceive patients with the kinds which she uses!
Cardenos. Certainly!—if it is magic——
Cleofas. It is magic, Cardenos, do not doubt it. This sorceress is competing with me dishonestly. This is not all—she takes no pay from the poor for her attention or her medicines. And will you believe me when I tell you that she sends them away with their hands full of gold?—We shall have to struggle now!—Our practise is being ruined.
Cardenos. Your Honor may be reassured—they have an eye on her.