SCENE VII

_Teodora and Ernest, she behind not daring to advance, he turned toward her._

ERNEST. You desire to speak to me, madam? Kindly be seated. [_Offers her a chair._]

TEODORA. [_Unveiling._] Forgive me, Ernest.

ERNEST. Teodora!

TEODORA. I am wrong to come—am I not?

ERNEST. [_Abruptly and stammering._] I can't say—since I don't know to what I owe this honour. But what am I saying? Alas! Here, in my rooms, madam, reverence attends you, than which you cannot find a greater [_with devotion_]. But what wrong can you possibly fear here, lady?

TEODORA. None—and there was a time—but that _once_ is for ever past. No thought of doubt or fear was then. I might have crossed any room on your arm without blush or fluttering pulse. But now! They tell me that you are starting for America to-morrow—and I—yes—like those who go away—perhaps not to return—it is so sad to lose a friend!—before Julian—before the whole world—thinking only of our affection—I myself, Ernest, would have held out my arms to you—in farewell.

ERNEST. [_Starts and quickly restrains himself._] Oh, Teodora!

TEODORA. But now I suppose it is not the same thing. There is a gulf between us.

ERNEST. You are right, madam. We may no longer care for one another, be no longer brother and sister. The mutual touch of palm would leave our hands unclean. 'Tis all for ever past. What we have now to learn is to hate one another.

TEODORA. [_In naïve consternation._] Hate! surely not!

ERNEST. Have I used that word—and to you! poor child!

TEODORA. Yes.

ERNEST. Don't heed me. If you needed my life, and the occasion offered itself, claim it, Teodora, for, to give my life for you would be——[_with passion_] it would be my duty. [_With a sudden change of voice. Pause._] Hate! if my lips pronounced the word, I was thinking of the misery,—I was thinking of the injury I have unwittingly wrought one to whom I owe so much. Yes, you, Teodora, must hate me—but I—ah, no!

TEODORA. [_Sadly._] They have made me shed tears enough; yes, you are right in that, Ernest [_with tenderness_], but you I do not accuse. Who could condemn or blame you for all this talk? You have nothing to do with the venomous solicitude with which evil minds honour us, nor with poor Julian's clouded temper. It is sorrow that makes him restive, and his suffering wounds me, for I know that it springs from doubt of my devotion.

ERNEST. That is what I cannot understand [_angrily_], and in him less than in another. It is what drives me wild: by the living God, I protest it is not worthy of pity, and there is no excuse for it. That the man should exist who could doubt a woman like you!

TEODORA. Poor fellow, he pays a heavy price for his savage distrust.

ERNEST. [_Horrified to find he has been blaming Don Julian to Teodora._] What have I said? I don't accuse him—no—I meant——[_He hastens to exculpate Don Julian and modify his former words._] Anybody might feel the same, that is, if he were very much in love. In our earthly egoism, don't we doubt the very God in heaven? And the owner of a treasure jealously watches it as gold, and cannot but fear for it. I, too, in his place, would be full of doubt,—yes—even of my own brother. [_Speaks with increasing fervour, and again restrains himself, perceiving that he is on the brink of a peril he would avoid. Teodora hears voices outside and rushes to the door._]

ERNEST. Whither are you leading me, rebel heart? What depth have I stirred? I accuse the world of calumny, and would now prove it right.

TEODORA. Do you hear? Somebody is coming.

ERNEST. [_Following her._] It is hardly two o'clock. Can it be——?

TEODORA. [_With terror._] It is Julian's voice.—He is coming in!

ERNEST. No, they have prevented him.

TEODORA. [_Turns to Ernest, still frightened._] If it were Julian? [_Moves towards the bedroom door. Ernest detains her respectfully._]

ERNEST. Should it be he, stay here. Loyalty is our shield. Were it one of those who distrust us—then there, Teodora. [_Points to the door._] Ah, nobody. [_Listening._]

TEODORA. How my heart throbs!

ERNEST. You need not be afraid. The person who wanted to come in has gone away—or it was an illusion. For God's sake, Teodora——! [_Advances up the stage._]

TEODORA. I had so much to say to you, Ernest, and the time has passed so quickly.

ERNEST. The time has flown.

TEODORA. I wanted——

ERNEST. Teodora, pray forgive me—but is it prudent? If any one came in—and, indeed, I fear some one will.

TEODORA. That is why I came—to prevent it.

ERNEST. So that——?

TEODORA. I know everything, and I am stricken with horror at the thought that blood should be shed on my account. My head is on fire, my heart is bursting. [_Strikes her breast._]

ERNEST. It is the affront that burns and shames you until my hand has struck at Nebreda's life. He wanted mud! Well, let him have it stained with blood.

TEODORA. You would kill him?

ERNEST. Certainly. [_Represses Teodora's movement of supplication._] You can dispose of me in all else but in this one thing. Do not ask me to feel compassion for a man whose insult I remember.

TEODORA. [_Prayerfully, with a sob._] For my sake!

ERNEST. For your sake?

TEODORA. It would be such a horrible scandal.

ERNEST. That is possible.

TEODORA. You can say it so coolly, and not endeavour to avoid it, not even when it is I who implore you!

ERNEST. I cannot avoid it, but I can chastise it: so I think and say, and this is my business. Others will look for the insult, I for the punishment.

TEODORA. [_Coming nearer and speaking softly, as if afraid of her own voice._] And Julian?

ERNEST. Well?

TEODORA. If he were to know about it?

ERNEST. He will know about it.

TEODORA. What will he say?

ERNEST. What?

TEODORA. That only my husband, the man who loves me, has a right to defend me.

ERNEST. Every honourable man has the right to defend a lady. He may not even know her, be neither a friend, nor a relative, nor a lover. It is enough for him to hear a woman insulted. Why do I fight this duel? Why do I defend her? Because I heard the calumny. Because I am myself. Who is so base as to give his protection by scale and measure? Was I not there? Then whoever it was—I or another—who was first on the scene——

TEODORA. [_Listens eagerly, dominated by him, and holds out her hand to him._] This is noble and honourable, and worthy of you, Ernest [_then restrains herself and moves backward_]. But it leaves Julian humiliated [_with conviction_].

ERNEST. He? humiliated!

TEODORA. Most surely.

ERNEST. Why?

TEODORA. For no reason whatever.

ERNEST. Who will say so?

TEODORA. Everybody.

ERNEST. But wherefore?

TEODORA. When the world hears of the affront, and learns that it was not my husband who avenged me, and above all [_drops her eyes ashamed_] that it was you who took his place—have we not then a new scandal topping the old?

ERNEST. [_Convinced but protests._] If one had always to think of what people will say, by Heaven there would be no manner or means of living then!

TEODORA. It is so, nevertheless.

ERNEST. Just so. 'Tis horrible.

TEODORA. Then yield.

ERNEST. Impossible.

TEODORA. I beseech you.

ERNEST. No. Looking into the matter, as nobody can know what will happen, it is better that I should face Nebreda. For, after all, if the fellow lack a sense of honour, he can use a sword.

TEODORA. [_Wounded and humiliated in the protection Ernest seems to offer Don Julian._] My husband is not lacking in courage.

ERNEST. Fatality again! Either I have expressed myself ill, or you do not understand me. I know his worth. But when a desperate injury lies between men of courage, who knows what may happen? which of them may fall, and which may kill? And if this man's sword must strike Don Julian or Ernest, can you doubt which it ought to be? [_Questions her with sad sincerity._]

TEODORA. [_In anguish_] You!—oh, no—not that either.

ERNEST. Why? If it is my fate? Nobody loses by my death, and I lose still less.

TEODORA. For Heaven's sake, do not say that. [_Barely able to repress her sobs._]

ERNEST. What do I leave behind me? Neither friendship nor strong love. What woman is there to follow my corpse shedding a lover's tears?

TEODORA. Last night I prayed for you—and you say that nobody——I could not bear you to die. [_Vehemently._]

ERNEST. Ah, we pray for any one; we only weep for one. [_With passion._]

TEODORA. [_Startled._] Ernest!

ERNEST. [_Terrified by his own words._] What!

TEODORA. [_Moving further away._] Nothing.

ERNEST. [_Also moving away and looking nervously down._] I told you a little while ago I was half mad. Do not heed me. [_Pause. Both remain silent and pensive, at some distance, not looking at each other._]

TEODORA. [_Starting and glancing anxiously down the stage._] Again!

ERNEST. [_Following her movement._] Somebody has come.

TEODORA. They are trying to get in.

ERNEST. [_Listening._] There can be no doubt of it. There, Teodora. [_Points to the bedroom door._]

TEODORA. My honour is my shield.

ERNEST. But it is not your husband.

TEODORA. Not Julian?

ERNEST. [_Leading her to the door._] No.

TEODORA. I hoped——[_Detains him with an air of supplication._] Will you give up this duel?

ERNEST. Give it up? When I've struck him!

TEODORA. I didn't know that. [_Despairingly, but understands that nothing can be done._] Then fly.

ERNEST. I fly!

TEODORA. For my sake, for his sake—for God's sake!

ERNEST. [_Despairingly._] You must loathe me to propose such a thing to me. Never!

TEODORA. One word only. Are they coming for you now?

ERNEST. It is not yet time.

TEODORA. Swear it to me.

ERNEST. Yes, Teodora. And you—say you don't hate me.

TEODORA. Never.

PEPITO. [_Outside._] Nothing. I must see him.

ERNEST. Quickly.

TEODORA. Yes. [_Hides in the bedroom._]

PEPITO. Why do you prevent me?

ERNEST. Ah, calumny is working to make the lie truth.