SCENE XV

_Don Lorenzo, Ángela, Inés, the Duchess, Edward, and Dr. Tomás._

DUCHESS. [_With exquisite courtesy._] Señor de Avendaña.

DON LORENZO. Avendaña, Avendaña! I don't know where he is, madam. [_In sombre absent tone._]

DOÑA ÁNGELA. [_Aside._] What is he saying?

INÉS. Goodness, what does this mean?

DUCHESS. I understand, Señor de Avendaña, how unwelcome must be my visit, since I come to claim of you the most precious of your possessions [_points to Inés_], and certainly it is not surprising that you should receive me as an enemy. [_Sweetly._]

DON LORENZO. Fate is my enemy, nobody else, madam.

INÉS. [_Aside._] Oh, what can have happened?

DUCHESS. You are right. It is the ruthless enemy of the parents.

DON LORENZO. Still more so of the children.

DUCHESS. I do not deny it. But in spite of it, 'tis divine law that governs our human sorrows, and we are forced to respect it. [_Makes an effort to turn the conversation, but does not conceal her wonderment._]

DON LORENZO. Ah, madam, those laws might often prove less cruel if it were only human cruelty that dictated them. [_The duchess evinces marked impatience. Edward approaches her. Inés goes to her father, while Doña Ángela and Dr. Tomás look on gloomily._]

INÉS. [_Aside to Don Lorenzo._] Father, I entreat you——

EDWARD. [_Aside to Duchess._] For my sake, mother.

DUCHESS. [_Haughtily and dryly._] I am a mother, and I adore my son. I know that happiness is not possible for him without this young lady, and rather than lose one child I prefer to gain two.

INÉS. [_To Don Lorenzo._] See how kind she is, father.

DON LORENZO. To lose a son were a terrible misfortune.

DUCHESS. [_Gently and approaching Don Lorenzo._] Will you not consent to bestow also the name of son upon my boy?

INÉS. [_In low voice of entreaty._] Answer, father.

DON LORENZO. [_Looks sadly at his daughter, takes her_ _head between his hands, and contemplates her yearningly._] How sweet you are! It seems incredible that you should not prove stronger than the law of honour.

DUCHESS. [_Unable to control herself._] To make an end of the matter, Señor de Avendaña, do you wish my son, the Duke of Almonte, to give his name to your daughter Inés?

DON LORENZO. [_In magnificent fury._] If I were a scoundrel, madam, this were an excellent occasion for procuring an honest name for my nameless child.

INÉS. Father!

DR. TOMÁS. } Lorenzo! DOÑA ÁNGELA. }

DUCHESS. I must frankly confess that I can make nothing of your answers nor of your attitude, which is quite other than what I had expected. I will content myself with asking for the last time—do you consent?

DON LORENZO. I am an honourable man. Misfortune may conquer me, but it will never disgrace me. Your Grace, this marriage is impossible.

DUCHESS. [_Offended, retreats a step._] Ah!

INÉS. What do you say, father? Impossible!

DON LORENZO. Yes, impossible. For I am not Avendaña. My parents were not my parents. This house is not my house. To you, my dearest girl, I can only give a soiled and an unworthy name,—because I am the wretchedest of men and I do not wish to be the basest.

INÉS. Father, father—oh, why are you killing me? [_Falls into a chair._]

DOÑA ÁNGELA. What have you done, you madman?

DON LORENZO. Inés, my child! Thou hast conquered, O God; but have pity on me.