SCENE XIII

_Don Lorenzo and Juana._

DON LORENZO. The paper! that accursed paper! Where is it? You have it.

JUANA. [_Showing it._] Yes.

DON LORENZO. Then give it me. 'We had no children,' she said. [_Makes an unsuccessful effort to read._] Where is it? I don't know. The letters swim before me. My eyes are dim. 'We had no children!' I cannot read, I can't. Do me the kindness to read it for me. [_Juana takes the paper._] Ah, there, where it says: 'We had no children.'

JUANA. [_Reads._] 'My husband knew that an incurable disease was rapidly undermining his health. Death went with him, nestled in his heart. Mad with love for me, he wished to secure me all his fortune, and I—it was wrong, I know now, it was wrong, for he had a father living, but I,—oh, forgive me, Lorenzo, you who are so kind and honourable—I accepted.' [_Pause._]

DON LORENZO. Continue, continue.

JUANA. 'We looked about for a child. I cannot write any more. Juana knows the secret. She will tell you all. Once more, I implore you to forgive me. Farewell, Lorenzo, and may God counsel you. I loved you like a son, though you were no child of ours.'

DON LORENZO. I—I—was not—what does it mean? Not her son? I bear a name that is not mine! For forty years have I enjoyed a fortune that belonged to others. I have robbed everything—social position, name and wealth. All, all! Even my mother's caresses, since she was not my mother,—even her kisses, since I was not her son. No, no. This is not possible. I am not so base. Juana, Juana, for the love you bear the God above, tell me the truth. Look, it is not for my own sake—what does it matter what happens to me?—but for my family's sake—for those unfortunate women—for my dear child's sake, my beloved Inés, who will die of it, and you see, I cannot let her die. [_Bursts into desperate sobs._]

JUANA. That is true. But hush! Who need know of it? and then it will not matter.

DON LORENZO. But if it be true?

JUANA. [_In a low voice._] It is true.

DON LORENZO. It seems a lie. That woman who cherished me so tenderly was not my mother?

JUANA. No. Your mother loved you still more.

DON LORENZO. Who was she, then?

JUANA. Lorenzo!

DON LORENZO. What was her name?

JUANA. Look at me without anger, and I will tell you.

DON LORENZO. Where is she?

JUANA. In strife with the torments of hell.

DON LORENZO. Is she also dead?

JUANA. She is dying. [_Towards the end of this dialogue Juana raises herself, and both stand in nervous agitation, staring wildly. When she utters the last word, she falls back again powerless upon the sofa._]

DON LORENZO. Juana!

JUANA. [_Contorted with pain._] Not that name!

DON LORENZO. Mother!

JUANA. Yes, call me so—my son! [_Makes a supreme effort to hold him to her._]