SCENE VII

_Teodora and Ernest._

ERNEST. The command was—that I should go away. [_Pause. Both remain silent without looking at each other._] And you? Are you going to repeat it? [_Teodora nods, but still does not look at him._] Have no fear, Teodora. I will respect and obey your order. [_Submissively._] The others could not get me to obey them, little as they may like to hear it [_harshly_], but nothing you could say, even though you wound me—From you I will endure anything! [_Sadly._]

TEODORA. I wound you! No, Ernest, you cannot believe that—— [_Still does not look at him, is half vexed and afraid._]

ERNEST. I do not believe it. [_Pause._]

TEODORA. Adieu. I wish you all happiness.

ERNEST. Adieu, Teodora. [_Remains waiting for a moment to see if she will turn and offer him her hand. Then walks down the stage, turns back again, and approaches her. Teodora shows that she feels his movement, and is distressed, but continues to keep her face averted._] If with my death at this very instant I could blot out all the misery that lies to my account, not through any fault of mine, but through an implacable fate, I should not now be standing here alive. You may believe it on the word of an honourable man. No shadow of the past would remain,—neither sighs nor pain to remember, nor that sorrowful pallor of your face [_Teodora starts and glances at him in terror_], nor the grieved fear of those eyes, nor sobs that tear the throat, nor tears that line the cheek. [_Teodora sobs._]

TEODORA. [_Aside, moving further away._] Mercedes was right, and I, blind and thoughtless that I was——

ERNEST. Bid me good-bye—once—for kindness's sake.

TEODORA. Good-bye! Yes; and I forgive you all the injury you have done us.

ERNEST. I, Teodora!

TEODORA. Yes, you.

ERNEST. What a look! What a tone!

TEODORA. No more, Ernest, I beseech you.

ERNEST. What have I done to deserve——?

TEODORA. It is all over between us. Regard me as one who no longer exists for you.

ERNEST. Is this contempt?

TEODORA. Go.

ERNEST. Go? in this way?

TEODORA. My husband is dying in there—and here I feel as if I too were dying. [_Staggers back and clutches the arm-chair to keep from falling._]

ERNEST. Teodora. [_Rushes forward to support her._]

TEODORA. [_Angrily drawing herself away._] Don't touch me. [_Pause._] Ah, I breathe again more freely. [_Tries to walk, staggers again weakly, and a second time Ernest offers to assist her. She repulses him._]

ERNEST. Why not, Teodora?

TEODORA. Your touch would soil me.

ERNEST. I soil you!

TEODORA. Exactly.

ERNEST. I! [_Pause._] What does she mean, Almighty God! She also! Oh, it is not possible! Oh, death is preferable to this—It cannot be true—I am raving—Say it is not true, Teodora—only one word—for justice—one word of pardon, of pity, of consolation, madam. I am resigned to go away, never to see you again, although 'twere to break, and mutilate, and destroy my life. But it will, at least, be bearable if I may carry into solitude your forgiveness, your affection, your esteem—only your pity, then. So that I still may think you believe me loyal and upright—that I could not, that I have not degraded you, much less be capable of insulting you. I care nothing about the world, and despise its affronts. Its passions inspire me with the profoundest disdain. Whether its mood be harsh or cruel, however it may talk of me and of what has happened, it will never think so ill of me as I do of it. But you, the purest dream of man's imagining—you for whom I would gladly give,—not only my life, but my right to heaven, ay, a thousand times—eagerly, joyously,—You, to suspect me of treason, of hypocrisy! Oh, this, Teodora—I cannot bear! [_Deeply moved, speaks despairingly._]

TEODORA. [_With increasing nervousness._] You have not understood me, Ernest. We must part.

ERNEST. But not like this!

TEODORA. Quickly, for mercy's sake. Julian suffers. [_Points to the sick-room._]

ERNEST. I know it.

TEODORA. Then we should not forget it.

ERNEST. No; but I also suffer.

TEODORA. You, Ernest! why?

ERNEST. Through your contempt.

TEODORA. I feel none.

ERNEST. You have expressed it

TEODORA. It was a lie.

ERNEST. No; not entirely. So that our sufferings are not equal. In this implacable strife _he_ suffers as those on earth suffer, _I_ as those in hell.

TEODORA. Spare me, Ernest—my head is on fire.

ERNEST. And my heart aches.

TEODORA. That will do, Ernest. I entreat you to pity me.

ERNEST. That was all I asked of you.

TEODORA. Mercy.

ERNEST. Yes, mercy. But why should you claim it? What is it you fear? of what are you thinking? [_Approaches her._]

TEODORA. Forgive me if I have offended you.

ERNEST. Offended me, no! The truth, that is what I crave,—and I implore it on my knees. See, Teodora, my eyes are wet. [_Bends his knee before her and takes her hand. Don Julian's door opens, and Don Severo stands staring at them._]

D. SEVERO. [_Aside._] Miserable pair!

TEODORA. Don Severo!