SCENE VI

_Teodora and Doña Mercedes._

TEODORA. Something serious? You alarm me, Mercedes. Such mystery! What can it mean?

MERCEDES. It is indeed very serious.

TEODORA. Concerning whom?

MERCEDES. All of you.

TEODORA. All of us?

MERCEDES. Julian, Ernest, and you.

TEODORA. All three?

MERCEDES. Yes, all three. [_Short pause. Both women stare at each other._]

TEODORA. Then make haste.

MERCEDES. [_Aside._] I should like to——but, no; I must go gently in this unsavoury affair. [_Aloud._] Listen, Teodora. My husband is, after all, your husband's brother, and in life and death our fortunes are one. So that we owe one another in all things protection, help, and advice,—is it not so? To-day it may be I who offer assistance, and to-morrow, should I need it, I unblushingly claim it of you.

TEODORA. You may count upon it, Mercedes. But come to the end of the matter now.

MERCEDES. Up to to-day, Teodora, I shrank from this step, but Severo urges me. 'It can't go on,' he insists. 'My brother's honour and my own self-esteem forbid me to witness that which fills me with shame and sorrow. On all sides am I assailed with innuendoes, with the smiles, the covert glances and the reproaches of my friends. There must be an end to this low gossip about us.'

TEODORA. Continue, pray.

MERCEDES. Then heed me. [_They exchange a prolonged gaze._]

TEODORA. Tell me, what is the gossip?

MERCEDES. The murmuring of the river tells us that its waters are swollen.

TEODORA. I understand nothing of your river and its swollen waters, but do not drive me wild.

MERCEDES. [_Aside._] Poor child! My heart grieves for her. [_Aloud._] So you do not understand me?

TEODORA. I? not in the least.

MERCEDES. [_Aside._] How stupid she is! [_Aloud, energetically._] You make a laughing-stock of him.

TEODORA. Of whom?

MERCEDES. Why, of your husband, of course.

TEODORA. [_Impetuously, rising._] Julian! what a falsehood! What wretch could say so? Julian would strike him!

MERCEDES. [_Endeavouring to soothe her and make her sit down._] He would need a good many hands, then; for, if report speak truly, he would have to strike the entire town.

TEODORA. But what does it all mean? What is the mystery, and what is this talk of the town?

MERCEDES. So you're sorry?

TEODORA. I am sorry. But what is it?

MERCEDES. You see, Teodora, you are quite a child. At your age one is so often thoughtless and light, and then such bitter tears are afterwards shed. You still don't understand me?

TEODORA. No, what has such a case to do with me?

MERCEDES. It is the story of a scoundrel and the story of a lady——

TEODORA. [_Eagerly._] Whose name——?

MERCEDES. Her name——

TEODORA. Oh, what does it matter?

[_Teodora moves away from Mercedes, who shifts her seat on the sofa to follow her. The double movement of repugnance and aloofness on Teodora's part, and of insistence and protection on Mercedes', is very marked._]

MERCEDES. The man is a shabby-hearted betrayer, who, for one hour of pleasure, would thrust upon the woman a life of sorrow: the husband's dishonour, the ruin of a family, and she left shamed and condemned to social penitence in the world's disdain, and to keener punishment still at the whip of her own conscience.

[_Here Teodora, avoiding Mercedes, reaches the edge of the sofa, bows her head and covers her face with both hands. At last she understands._]

MERCEDES. [_Aside._] Poor little thing! She touches me. [_Aloud._] This man is not worthy of you, Teodora.

TEODORA. But, madam, what is the drift of all this blind emotion? Do not imagine that my eyes are dimmed with fear or horror or tears. They burn with the flame of anger. To whom can such words be addressed? What man do you mean? Is it, perchance——?

MERCEDES. Ernest.

TEODORA. Ah! [_Pause._] And the woman I? Not so? [_Mercedes nods and Teodora rises again._] Then listen to me, though I may offend you. I know not who is the viler, the inventor of this tale or you who repeat it. Shame upon the meanness that formed the idea, and shame upon the villainy that spreads it! It is so abominable, so fatal, that I almost feel myself criminal because I cannot instantly reject the thought and forget it. Heavens! could I suppose or credit such baseness? Because of his misfortunes I loved him. He was like a brother to me, and Julian was his providence. And he so noble and thorough a gentleman! [_Stands staring at Mercedes, then turns away her face. Aside._] How she inspects me! I scarcely like to say a good word for him to her. My God! I am compelled already to act a part.

MERCEDES. Be calm, child.

TEODORA. [_Raising her voice._] Oh, what anguish! I feel cold and inconsolable. Stained in this way by public opinion! Oh, my dearest mother, and you, Julian, my heart's beloved. [_She falls sobbing into a chair on the left, and Mercedes strives to console her._]

MERCEDES. I did not imagine—forgive me—don't cry. There, I didn't really believe it was serious. I knew your past exonerated you. But as the case stands, you must admit that out of every hundred a hundred would accuse you and Julian of excessive rashness, or say you had led the world to conclude the worst. You a girl of twenty, Julian a man of forty, and Ernest between you, with his head full of romantic thoughts. On the one hand, a husband given up to business, on the other a youth to dreams, every day bringing its opportunity, and you there, unoccupied, in the flush of romance. It was wrong for people to conclude the worst because they saw you walking with him, and saw him so often at the theatre with you. But, Teodora, in reason and justice I think that, if the world was bent on seeing evil, you furnished the occasion. Permit me to point out to you that the fault which society most fiercely chastises, pursues most relentlessly and cruelly, and in every varied imaginable way, both in man and woman is—don't frown so, Teodora—is _temerity_.

TEODORA. [_Turning to Mercedes without having heard her._] And you say that Julian——

MERCEDES. Is the laughing-stock of the town, and you——

TEODORA. Oh, I! That's no matter. But Julian!—Oh, oh, so good, so chivalrous! If he only knew——

MERCEDES. He will know, for at this very moment Severo is telling him.

TEODORA. What!

JULIAN. [_Inside._] That will do.

TEODORA. Oh, goodness!

JULIAN. Let me alone.

TEODORA. Come away, quickly.

MERCEDES. [_Rushing with Teodora towards first door on the right._] Yes, yes, quickly. What folly! [_Teodora and Mercedes go to the right._]

TEODORA. [_Stopping suddenly._] But wherefore, since I am not guilty? Not only does miserable calumny stain us, but it degrades us. It is so steeped in evil, that, against all evidence, its very breath takes the bloom off our consciences. Why should an idle terror cast its mean influence over me? [_At this moment Don Julian appears on the threshold of the first door on the right hand side, and behind him stands Don Severo._]

TEODORA. Julian!

D. JULIAN. Teodora! [_She runs over to him, and he folds her in a passionate embrace._] Here in my arms, dearest. It is the home of your honour.