Zoraya. Alone?
Enrique. Go, Zoraya.
Zoraya. Without you—No!
Enrique. Merciful Heaven! What course shall we take?
Zoraya. Flight!
Enrique. And where shall we fly to?
Zoraya. Where I told you!
Enrique. It is dishonorable and my life will be lost!
Zoraya. Remain! Then you will lose it more quickly!—Come! Come on!—Come!—Come! (She runs to the street door and opens it. They hear sounds of voices outside and the scraping of guitars. She quickly fastens the door.) The musicians!
Enrique. In the street?