The Governor's Wife/Act 2
Reception-hall in the Governors Palace. Two large balconies at the rear. The table and chairs are strewn with ladies' hats, wraps, and other garments. A Clerk and Don Santiago in conversation.
Santiago. Where is Don Trino? Why don't you send
me Don Trino? How is this? What are these things doing
here?
Clerk. I don't know. Your Excellency. I was at service at the cathedral during the morning.
Santiago. So? That will do for to-day. Send me Don Trino. [Ironically to himself] A good government! A pretty government!
Josefina enters.
Josefina. Are you making an address for the opposition?
Santiago. I?
Josefina. You were just saying "A good government! A pretty government!"
Santiago. Never mind about the government; the government can take care of itself. Where am I to sit? Where am I to write? [To the Clerk] Send me Don Trino.
Josefina. Don Trino? He is busy doing something for me.
Santiago. Oh! That will do for to-day.
The Clerk goes out.
Josefina. I asked him to decorate the table for the refreshments.
Santiago. But, Josefina! A man in his position, a public servant
Josefina. He offered himself. In such matters he really has very good taste.
Santiago. Well, have the clerks set the table, cover the furniture, yes, and sew on the machine, too, if they want to, only do me the favor to remove these things from the chairs.
Josefina. Have a little patience; Carmen is unpacking her trunks. Besides, I had to empty the armoires to make room for my new gowns from Madrid. We spread everything out so as to get a good look at it. You know how upsetting it is to have guests in the house. These old buildings are absolutely without conveniences.
Santiago. But where am I to receive visitors?
Josefina. Oh, you annoy me! [Ringing.
The Clerk enters.
Clerk. Did you ring?
Josefina. Yes. Ask the Marchioness's maid to come down. And tell Don Trino that if he runs short of carnations, there are two bunches waiting for him on my dressing-table.
Clerk. Certainly. [The Clerk goes out.
Josefina. The maid will pick up for you.
Santiago. Phew! But it's hot. I wish I didn't have to wear this frock coat.
Josefina. Why don't you take it off? Nobody will be in before evening.
Santiago. But, wife, I have to write to the Prime Minister.
The Maid enters.
Maid. What does madame wish?
Josefina. Pick up these things. How is the Marchioness this afternoon?
Maid. She is dressing for the reception.
Santiago. Goodness! Tell her it isn't a reception—just a few friends dropping in to see the fireworks from the balcony.
Maid. That makes no difference. After six the Marchioness always wears an evening-gown, in the English fashion, sir.
Santiago. Well, if that is the case
Maid. The only difference is that if it is an informal affair, she wears a high neck, but if it is public, of course, the neck is cut low.
Josefina. Of course, Santiago, of course. [The Maid withdraws] You ought to be ashamed of yourself to be taking lessons from a maid.
Santiago. But how was I to know? Who would ever have supposed that in public it would be cut low?
Josefina. I wish you would keep your eyes open, Santiago.
Santiago. Just as you say, my dear. Oh! You don't know how I feel!
Josefina. What is the matter ?
Santiago. I have sent word to Madrid but they refuse to answer anything definite—generalities, that is all. They say that I am in a better position than they are to appreciate the conditions; that the government lacks knowledge of the local situation.
Josefina. Why do you have to ask the government what to do? They will think that you are a fool, and they will be right, too. Can't you make up your own mind? The first thing that a man needs in order to fill an office of importance is character, and to have character is to do whatever one thinks is right, no matter what comes of it. If it turns out to be wrong, all the more reason for sticking to it.
Santiago. Then I will
Josefina. Do what? What is it you are going to do?
Santiago. Comply with the law.
Josefina. Comply with the law? Don't talk nonsense. You don't mean to say you have authorized the performance of that horrible play?
Santiago. There wasn't any way out of it. The posters are up for the first performance already.
Josefina. With your consent?
Santiago. Why not?
Josefina. After having heard what His Reverence said this morning? After all the leading citizens of Moraleda have come to you in face of this onslaught and joined hands to form a dike
Santiago. Come down out of the pulpit, my dear; it isn't your sphere. My duty is not to please a faction, however large—no, not if it included everybody. My duty is to obey the law.
Josefina. Very well, then. Do as you see fit. I knew that sooner or later you would succeed in making yourself ridiculous. You will go out of office in disgrace, discredited as a politician or as anything else.
Santiago. Josefina, what conception have you of the law? They can say what they like, but women possess only the rudiments of moral sense. It is much less highly developed with them than with us.
Josefina. That may be, but we possess plenty of common sense, which is a thing that you haven't any idea of. What did your uncle say to me when I went to him to ask him to recommend you to the ministry for the position which you now hold, because you were too inefficient to earn your own living—our situation at that time could not possibly have been worse—what did he say to me? "Undeceive yourself, Josefina. Poor Santiago is no good. He will never amount to anything. If he goes into office on horseback like Don Quixote, he will come out of it on an ass like Sancho Panza." And your uncle was a prophet. He knew what he was talking about.
Santiago. My dear wife, Josefina, let us not disturb the peace of our home, even though it be a governor's house—temporarily—by questions of politics. They ought never to cloud the brow of a creature so fair as yourself—you, for whom I have toiled, although I never was ambitious, for whom I would strive, yes, and fight with all my might, not only in a governorship of the second class, but, upon a throne, if I had one, to seat you beside me in ermine.
Josefina. Upon a throne? How long do you suppose you would stay there?
Santiago. You are lovely, you are beautiful; do not forget that, my dear. Don't you think that with such a wife a governor might be pardoned something, even if his ideas are a little advanced?
Josefina. Don't advance, Santiago! For heaven's sake, don't advance! And stop talking nonsense. This is a serious matter.
Santiago. That is precisely the reason I don't intend to have you meddle in it.
Josefina. So? That is what I am to you, is it? In the serious affairs of life, I am a meddler? I have no voice? I am not your wife, your equal; I am a butterfly, a toy who cares for nothing but frivolity? This is the consideration I receive after so many years of sacrifice, after all the privations I have endured for you!
Santiago. Josefina! My dear!
Josefina. At least you cannot say that my eyes were not open when I married you. I had no illusions about your future. When I first met you, you were the last person in the world that any one would have fallen in love with, with that old green coat you used to wear—I can see it now—and twenty-five pesetas a week in the Court of Claims. Didn't my parents take me away for a whole summer to Escorial so that I could get you out of my head? But I could not. No, I was young and foolish then, and I loved you, I loved you out of pity like… like… Desdemona loved Othello!
Santiago. I know, Josefina, I know. If I ever doubted for one moment, if I have ever ceased to merit your affection
Josefina. I remember the first present I ever gave you—half a dozen linen pocket-handkerchiefs to replace that old cotton towel you used to carry and pull out whenever you had a cold. Ay! How it used to mortify me! And in those days you always had a cold.
Santiago. I know, my dear, I know. You were so thoughtful, so providing…
Josefina. And after we were married, in times of trial and privation, who was it who was the first to economize, to cut herself down? I was. Didn't we go for whole months without a maid, without any servant in the house whatever? And I was laundress and cook, and I helped you translate feuilletons from the French, although they might better have been left untranslated, and I made all my clothes for two years myself so as to appear decently and spend as little upon them as possible, and made them all alike so that nobody could tell when I had new ones, though I never had any, and the worst that you ever heard me say in all that time was that another man in your place would have acted differently, that he wouldn't have been a good-for-nothing, that he would not have behaved himself like an ass! But you never heard me complain. And now you repay all my sacrifices by telling me that I cannot understand anything serious, that I am a woman without judgment, without character
Santiago. What I said was
Josefina. You treat me like a cocotte.
Santiago. Wife! I never treated such a person in my life.
Josefina. As soon as a woman ceases to be honorable, everybody begins to blame her. Her husband is the first!
Santiago. Naturally.
Josefina. Why are women so foolish as to be honest? Why, oh, why do we love? How often you see a woman who has thrown herself away upon a man who hasn't the remotest idea what to do with her! What is the use?
Santiago. This number was not on the programme of the feria.
Josefina. And yet you talk of being serious! What you do, that is serious; what you do, that is dignified! Is it dignified to be false to your promises? To be a traitor to your friends, to those who support and defend you? And when all they ask of you is a trifle!
Santiago. A trifle? To break the law, to violate the constitution? Are those trifles?
Josefina. You evade me. To leave me publicly exposed after what happened in the cathedral this morning—is that a trifle? The petitions of all the ladies' societies, the requests of our friends, the Solars, the Villaquejidos, the Remolinos, the Peribáñezs, everybody
Santiago. Everybody? Yes, the whole world, the universe! That is what makes me angry. Who are these people that they should set themselves up to dictate to me? It is a pretty sign of morality when all the rogues begin to moralize. Don Baldomero Remolinos shocked by a comedy? Think of it! As if every one didn't remember that he opened his first shop to the tune of the "Hymn of Riego," and what a shop it was!—a counter of decayed vegetables, which was all that he had until he got the contract to furnish meals for the jail. In those days, let me tell you, no one ever thought of committing a crime. No, sir! The provisions of Don Baldomero inspired a terror more salutary than all the penalties of the code.
Josefina. You don't mean to say that you believe all those stupidities? It seems incredible. Lies, calumnies invented by the rabble, yes, by the very people you want to pander to now with a spectacle debased to their taste. You want to win their applause, to appear popular; but you have not reckoned upon one thing—I shall not stand by you in this humiliation. I am going to Madrid this very night! To Madrid!
Santiago. Are you crazy?
Josefina. Do you think I can face the reproaches, the contempt of my friends, the scorn of everybody?
Santiago. I wouldn't worry myself so much about everybody. Does everybody consist of the few persons who possess the honor of introductions to you?
Josefina. Everybody is everybody, and it is too late for you to change it. You want to set yourself up as a tribune of the people. Very well! But you need not expect me to be present at your funeral. When they throw you out of office, and they won't hesitate to do it, when you slink away in dishonor, hooted at, disgraced, then you will remember who gave you advice; then you will see that it was your wife who had your interests at heart. And to think that you should be dreaming of a governorship of the first class!
Santiago. Dreaming? I'd be satisfied if I could get a chance to sleep! My head will go round for a week.
Josefina. This is not a laughing matter. I am going to get ready—to-night!
Santiago. But, my dear… Impossible!
Josefina. There is only one way to prevent it.
Santiago. I am your husband, Josefina.
Josefina. Yes, and I suppose you would like to demonstrate your force of character upon me? That would be too much. No, no! I am going! I am going…
Santiago. But, wife! Josefina! In the midst of the feria? Don't create a scandal. Reflect.
Josefina. Conscience dictates, Santiago; it never reflects. You are the one to reflect.
Santiago. In the name of all the saints, tell me what it is that you wish me to do. I will consider, I will reflect, I will consult—with everybody! If there is a way out of this dilemma, without breaking the law
Josefina. You will consult? Yes! With persons of ability, of judgment, I suppose? I can tell you this: they will say precisely the same thing that I do. We shall see how many it takes to make up your mind. Won't it be pleasant for me to have everybody boasting that they could turn you around their little finger and I couldn't? Won't it be pleasant for me?
Santiago. If it was not for you, do you suppose that I would hesitate for one moment? It is only for you that I search and pray, yes, pray, that there may be some legal way to violate the law, for we are in Spain, thank God, and there must be one. But don't talk about going to Madrid and don't cry! Don't reproach me. Look! Your hair is falling down, and you have crumpled your dress.
Josefina. What do I care about my dress? I am not thinking about my clothes. Why do I wear clothes anyway? So that you may look decently and present a proper appearance before the people. For the very same reason that I used to put on my apron and go down into the kitchen, and do whatever there was to be done about the house.
Santiago. I know, my dear, I know. And there never were such meals as when you, with your own royal hands, prepared our simple fare.
Josefina. Really? Do you mean it? Then Governor's wife that I am, I shall put on my apron and go down into the kitchen, and bring back again those happy days.
Santiago. So much happier, so much more tranquil than now!
Josefina. What is the use of poetizing at a distance? You forget the disappointments, the humiliations, the black hours that we went through in Madrid. And I want you to remember them and to keep them always in mind, so as to frighten you out of the danger of losing in a moment what it has cost us so many years to attain.
Santiago. It is true. There were black hours.
Josefina. And who encouraged you? Who animated you? Who always gave you advice?
Santiago. You, you! You always gave me advice. You are right. I don't know how I came to be so foolish as to displease you. I'll do whatever you wish, without consulting anybody. Does that satisfy you? Now do I appreciate you at your true worth? Now do I deserve your love?
Josefina. Yes, yes! Now you do! And you will see that I know how to reward you. I am satisfied. How easy it is to satisfy me!… Embrace me. Ah! Again… How good you are at heart, and how I love you!
Santiago. It is so long since you have embraced me—not since my inauguration.
Josefina. Nonsense! Since your inauguration? Suppose somebody should hear you say that!
Santiago. I mean a real, spontaneous embrace. Well, my dear, I will see what I can do. [He rings.
Josefina. Yes, at once.
Santiago. But I must legalize the blow. [The Clerk enters] Send me Don Trino. Tell him to drop whatever he is doing and come immediately. [The Clerk goes out] If there is a riot, if the people rise against me, let him who is without a wife cast the first stone.
Josefina. What is the use of talking about riots? The people are like women. They need a man of character to dominate them, by force if necessary.
Santiago. Why didn't you begin with that proposition?
Josefina. You'll be saying next that you never do anything but what I tell you; that I am the real Governor.
Santiago. No, no! What have I to say anyway? Let us not begin another discussion.
Don Trino enters.
Trino. What does the señora wish?
Santiago. It is not the señora, this time it is I. Sometimes it has to be I. Sit down.
Trino. If it is nothing very urgent, sir, I should like to finish the shield and the towers
Santiago. What shield and what towers?
Trino. The coat of arms of the province, sir, which I am constructing entirely of flowers—to be placed in the middle of the table at the supper this evening, Your Excellency's initials on one side and those of your worthy spouse on the other. Very beautiful, sir, very beautiful!
Josefina. Did you do all that yourself, Don Trino? It is a pity to put you to so much trouble.
Trino. If one possesses talent, señora, it is his duty to display It when occasion requires. You have guests to-night from Madrid, and I am anxious that they should see that here, too, we are lovers of art.
Santiago. Sit down, Don Trino. I shall be ready to dictate in a moment. Then you can finish the towers.
Josefina. It won't detain you long.
Santiago. Yours is the only handwriting that is legible in the house.
Trino. True, Your Excellency, though self-praise does not become me, but the seventy-two governors who have occupied the Palace during the twenty years I have lived in it, have always valued my services highly. I say nothing of their wives, who continually send me presents. When it comes to a question of repairing umbrellas, or mending china, or any little handiness about the house, or entertaining the children with the latest toys, or preparing a special kind of starch for the wash, a secret which I had from some nuns, who as a particular favor passed it on to an aunt of mine, who brought me up, a sister of my father, sir, who is now in glory, God keep him, sir
Santiago. Don Trino, this is a very urgent matter.
Trino. I beg your pardon, but since the señora was listening with such interest…
Josefina. I? I was thinking of something else.
Trino. You will never find me backward with the pen.
Santiago. Don't construct so many bouquets for yourself.
Trino. As you say, sir. Ah! before I forget it; the refreshments
Josefina. What is the matter? Haven't they come?
Trino. Sí, señora. But the fact is they were ordered from the Café of the Four Nations
Santiago. As is usual.
Trino. I beg your pardon. As is usual during liberal administrations, for the proprietor is a leading liberal; but during conservative administrations the order is always placed with the Café de Europa, whose proprietor is a conservative, and he has taken great offense, in my judgment with good reason, sir. for he has made many sacrifices for the party.
Santiago. I didn't know that when I gave the order.
Josefina. Of course, you didn't know—as is usual!
Santiago. Come, come! Let us not begin another discussion over refreshments.
Trino. I hope not, sir. With your permission—although without consulting you—I knew I might count upon your approval—I have effected a compromise. I have ordered the ices from the Café of the Four Nations, and the creams from the Café de Europa, so that in this way I have established a precedent, for in my opinion, sir, subject to your approval, a political question ought not to be made out of the serving of ice-cream. You will dictate when you are ready, sir.
Don Santiago begins to dictate. Voices outside.
Josefina. Who is coming at this hour?
Esperanza enters.
Josefina. So early, my dear? And alone?
Esperanza. [Weeping, Hinging herself into the arms of Josefina] Oh, Josefina! I am utterly miserable!
Josefina. What is the matter with you?
Santiago. What has happened? [To Don Trino] Just a moment, just a moment…
Josefina. Have you had another tiff with papa and mamma?
Esperanza. I have no papa, I have no mamma, I have nobody in all the world, but you!
Santiago. My child!…
Josefina. Nonsense! Up to her old tricks.
Trino. [To Don Santiago, who pays no attention to him] If you don't mind, sir, if you don't mind, I think I might finish the shield and the towers…
Santiago. [Absorbed] Yes, yes… Of course!
Don Trino goes out.
Santiago. [To Esperanza] But what is the trouble? How is it that you are alone?
Esperanza. I am not alone; the maid brought me. And I am going to stay with you forever! Our house is worse than the Inquisition.
Josefina. No, Esperanza
Santiago. If we didn't know better, we might think you were one of the martyrs.
Esperanza. How little outsiders can tell! Papa has done nothing all day but buy me presents.
Josefina. Horrible!
Esperanza. Yes, I knew you would laugh at me. Whenever papa buys me presents, it is because he means to do something unpleasant, and he wants to get me into good humor beforehand.
Josefina. Have you found out what it is that he is going to do?
Esperanza. Have I? This afternoon he called me into his study, and he said to me, he said to me
Josefina. Go on.
Esperanza. "Esperanza, my dear daughter"—whenever papa calls me his dear daughter, it is always because he means to do something unpleasant—"my dear daughter, I would not for the world displease you in anything."
Josefina. Of course not.
Esperanza. Wait! "Do you love Polito or do you love Manolo? Decide. Choose for yourself and let us not have any more of this coquetry, playing off one against the other and making both yourself and your parents ridiculous."
Santiago. There is some sense in what he says.
Esperanza. Is there any sense in his telling me to make up my mind without anybody's giving me any advice, without its being anything to anybody whether I am unhappy afterward or not for the rest of my life? Then if I complain, they will say: "You did it yourself; it was your own fault."
Santiago. That would be a predicament.
Josefina. Between ourselves, which do you prefer? Polito or Manolo?
Esperanza. How Can I tell?
Josefina. Did you leave word that you were coming with mamma?
Esperanza. That would have been a nice thing to do! You should have seen the state mamma was in when she heard that Don Santiago had given permission for the performance of the play.
Santiago. You don't say so? But if I… That reminds me. Don Trino! Where is Don Trino? [He rings. The Clerk enters] Send me Don Trino. [The Clerk goes out.
Josefina. What did your mother say?
Esperanza. Oh, you will find out soon enough! The Marchioness saw the posters in the street, so she knew that you had broken your promise, and His Reverence has given orders to find out who is responsible, so as to fix the blame, and the ladies are all angry, so nobody is coming to the reception this evening, and when they pass you on the street they are going to cut you as if they didn't know you at all.
Josefina. [To Santiago] Now see what you have done! Didn't I tell you? We are in a nice fix. But, if this should not be so, if it is all a mistake? [To Santiago] Leave me! Don't speak to me! I shall write at once to the Marchioness and explain everything. [She seats herself at the desk and begins to write. To Santiago] And you! Why don't you give that order? Do you want me to do it myself?
Santiago. That would be the last straw. At once! Don Trino! Don Trino! I suppose I shall have to find him… [Don Santiago goes out.
Josefina. [Without looking up] What did the Marchioness say? Was she much put out?
Esperanza. Was she? I was so sorry for you, Josefina. You know how I love you.
Josefina. I know, my dear.
Esperanza. And it isn't your fault, is it, if your husband will do what he pleases?
Josefina. Certainly not. What can you do with a man anyway? You will find out when you get married. They do whatever they like. Pardon a moment… [She continues to write.
The Marchioness of Torrelodones enters.
Marchioness of Torrelodones. Hello, Esperancita! I am all dressed. Isn't mamma coming to see the fireworks?
Esperanza. I don't know.
Marchioness of Torrelodones. Do you expect many people, Josefina?
Josefina. I couldn't say. Pardon, I shall be done in a moment…
Esperanza. Probably nobody will come.
Marchioness of Torrelodones. Nobody! Heavens! What is the complication? Anything new? The trouble about the theatre?
Josefina and Esperanza both speak at the same time.
Josefina. Another blunder of Santiago's. Imagine
Esperanza. A mistake of the Marchioness's who has muddled up everything
Josefina. Without realizing what he was doing, he gave permission
Esperanza. And the Marchioness says that Josefina has been false to her word
Josefina. And so nobody is coming this evening.
Meanwhile Don Santiago has re-entered, preparing to resume the dictation, but because of the conversation he is unable to proceed.
Santiago. If you will be so kind… Just a moment… Let me see, where were we?
Trino. What is this? I didn't write this.
Santiago. Give it to me. [Reading] "My dear Marchioness, I hasten to apologize"… [To the others] And on the other side my letter to the Ministry! Josefina, this mixing of public and private business is intolerable. [To Don Trino] Come with me.
Josefina. No, no, we had better go. Don't tear up that letter; I will copy it.
Santiago. No, let him copy the despatch
Josefina. Couldn't you have given the order without saying anything about it to the Ministry?
Santiago. Yes, it is more important to make explanations to the Marchioness. Copy the despatch, Don Trino.
Trino. [With politesse] The señora may take the letter if she wishes; I remember perfectly the terms of the despatch.
Santiago. Here, take it. [To Josefina] I beg your pardon. Carmen; but these festivals… What a festival!
Josefina. And all because you lack character!
Marchioness of Torrelodones. These provincials are impossible. Give me Madrid.
Josefina. Talk about liberty! You can do what you please there.
Esperanza. When I get married I am going straight to Madrid.
Josefina, the Marchioness of Torrelodones and Esperanza go out, conversing busily.
Santiago. What can you do with a woman anyway?
Trino. Women are the gentler sex, sir. We pass agreeable moments with them, but when it comes to business—Let me see. Where did we leave off? [Reading] "In a frightful commotion"…
Santiago. That's it. "In a frightful commotion"… [Dictating] A strenuous protest was registered
Don Baldomero enters.
Baldomero. Señor Don Santiago!
Santiago. Don Baldomero! My friend! To what am I indebted for this honor?
Baldomero. Is Esperanza with you?
Santiago. Yes; that is… Did you wish to see her?
Baldomero. No, no! Go on, go on…
Santiago. Not before him! [To Don Trino] Wait in the study; I shall be with you in a moment.
Trino. The wine is in the study, sir.
Santiago. Then dispose of it at once. [Don Trino goes out] At your service, Don Baldomero.
Baldomero. At my service, Don Santiago, at my service! Perhaps you will explain to me first whether to juggle with your promises, to be false to your word is to be at my service?
Santiago. Calm yourself and everybody as my wife says, Don Baldomero. At this moment I am sending a despatch to the ministry, prefacing it at the same time by a telegram, announcing the prohibition of "Obscurantismo."
Baldomero. Then how is it that they have posted the bills? Why are they selling tickets at the box-office? For they are selling tickets. On my way here I saw the line myself.
Santiago. Is there a line? I thought you said nobody would go?
Baldomero. There is a line, that is true; but of what people!
Santiago. The fact is, I did issue a permit. Now, if it is withdrawn you are responsible—you and your friends. I shall resign my office into the hands of the captain-general. Oh, if it were only so easy to resign one's wife!
Baldomero. I should not think of such a thing. The law-abiding element is solidly with you.
Santiago. That may be, but the art of government consists in having with you the non-law-abiding element.
Baldomero. Let me tell you, Don Santiago, wit in a governor is entirely out of place. Where is your secretary, Don Manolo? Hasn't he come to-day?
Santiago. I don't know. I will see. [He rings.
Baldomero. He is a man it is well to keep an eye on.
The Clerk enters.
Santiago. Has Don Manolo come in?
Clerk. I think so, sir. He was just here with a strange gentleman.
Santiago. Tell him that Don Baldomero would like to see him. [The Clerk goes out] You say that he is a man it is well to keep an eye on? I suppose because he is paying attention to your daughter? I might warn you that at present his prospects are not very bright; his position is a humble one. But he is honest, industrious
Baldomero. I am delighted to know your opinion.
Santiago. You will find him extremely handy about the house.
Baldomero. So I understand from your wife.
Santiago. Yes, of course. Ah! Here he comes.
Manolo enters.
Manolo. Gentlemen
Baldomero. My dear Manolito! Come to me. You know how highly I value your abilities.
Manolo. I know, sir.
Santiago. Don Baldomero wishes to speak with you. I have this business to attend to.
Manolo. About the theatre?
Santiago. Yes. Absolute prohibition! It is necessary to show character.
Manolo. Prohibition?
Baldomero. Yes, man, yes. Prohibition!
Santiago. [Alarmed] Why, don't you think… Doesn't it seem to you…
Manolo. No, no, I don't think. You have reasons of your own, no doubt. At your disposition, Don Baldomero.
Baldomero. Sit down, my son; sit down.
Manolo. [Aside to Don Santiago] How affable!
Santiago. [To Manolo] You are making progress. He wants to speak with you alone. What luck! Pardon me… [Don Santiago retires.
Manolo. How is it that after having given permission, he now retracts it? That will put him in a pretty position.
Baldomero. If I were you, I wouldn't concern myself about it. You are not responsible—especially since you won't be here when the performance takes place.
Manolo. I won't be here?
Baldomero. No, as you are going away beforehand.
Manolo. I? Going away? Who told you so?
Baldomero. Nobody. I am telling you. You are going because I wish it, because it is not convenient for me to have you stay.
Manolo. You are not speaking seriously.
Baldomero. It is necessary to be frank with you; for that reason I speak seriously.
Manolo. Do you mean to tell me
Baldomero. It is the simplest thing in the world. All you have to do is to resign your position, upon any pretext which may occur to you at the moment, pack your trunk, and return by the first train to Madrid.
Manolo. Because you wish it? Because you tell me to?
Baldomero. Not at all. Because it is for your best interests to do so, because in that way you will avoid unpleasantness. You know, my dear Manolo, I have always had your welfare at heart.
Manolo. Now you are sympathizing with me.
Baldomero. You are so young, you have so few friends, that, naturally I sympathize with you.
Manolo. I see. I think I divine the motive of your solicitude without further explanation. I cannot deny that I have paid some attention to your daughter. Whether or not she has responded sufficiently to justify you in rising up in your pride as a potentate, or in your affection as a father, I am not at present in a position to determine; but however great my presumption may have been in laying eyes upon that young lady, inasmuch as I am not your servant, nor your debtor in any particular, I am unable to see in just what way you purpose to enforce this decree of banishment, however great a personage you may be in Moraleda, without any other authority than your own say-so.
Baldomero. To a man of my years, my son, boasting sounds idle and vain. Had I wished, there are a thousand ways in which I might have caused your departure, without your so much as suspecting one of them; but I could not bring myself to employ them in the case of one of whom I was so fond. But when I say to you directly, face to face, "I want you to go away," I say it as counsel, I say it as advice. If you prefer, Don Santiago will say it as a command.
Manolo. Through your advice?
Baldomero. For the sake of his own reputation. When you say that you owe me nothing, you forget that there are a thousand ways in which a man may incur obligation—papers which may pass from hand to hand, compromising documents which may perhaps be brought to light.
Manolo. Compromising documents? In your possession?
Baldomero. Don't be a fool. You know Reinosa, the manager of the Circle? Well, his place was running until last night, when some one brought word to the Governor that his order to close the house had not been complied with. He had continued playing because he had understood that he was within his rights; he had received a letter
Manolo. Eh? Have you that letter?
Baldomero. Don't you see? That letter served as a guarantee, a receipt for a certain sum of money, and it has come into my possession. Unless you take steps to prevent it, it will presently come into that of Don Santiago. I know this letter is not signed by you, although it is directed to you, and by a person who, by addressing you in such connection, gives ample evidence of the esteem in which you are held by her; I know you will say that it is a great deal to ask you to leave Moraleda in exchange for a letter, but in order to placate Reinosa, whose casino is closed in spite of the guarantee, I understand that you have paid a visit to a certain club of which I am landlord and honorary president, and I wish to inform you that even suppose they do gamble there
Manolo. They do. There is no supposition about that.
Baldomero. Even if they do, let me tell you, they know what they are doing, they are of full age, and it calls for no interference from you. We are not all equally influential, young man, though you may not realize it, and whether pretending to the hand of my daughter, or pretending to put me before the community in a contemptible light as the proprietor of a gambling-hell
Manolo. Pardon any pretense upon my part. So long as I supposed that family reasons, which I respect, prompted this behavior, I remained silent; but now that it appears to have also its business side, that puts another face upon the matter. Do as you see fit with that letter, but let me tell you, if you do not happen to remember how a gentleman should behave, I happen to remember very well how to treat persons who do not. Not another word!… Josefina!
Baldomero. We shall see, young man. We shall see.
Josefina enters.
Baldomero. [To Josefina] Lovelier than the day!
Josefina. Don Baldomero! You have come for Esperanza? But you did not know she was here.
Baldomero. Where better? No, I did not come for her. Perhaps she told you that she had had a little tiff with mamma? A mere trifle! Believe me, if you are thinking of having children, a dozen or none.
Josefina. I agree with you perfectly. Where is my husband?
Baldomero. He assures me that everything has been provided for, thanks, no doubt, to you. You are his good angel. A man is to be envied who has an intelligent wife.
Josefina. I suppose your wife is coming to see the fireworks? There will be music and dancing for the young people.
Baldomero. She would not miss them for the world. I shall bring her myself—before the crowd is too great.
Josefina. Adios till then. Esperanza will be so delighted to see her mamma.
Baldomero. She is always delighted when she is with you, whom she loves so dearly. [To Manolo] Adios till then, my son.
Manolo. [Acridly] Adios.
Don Baldomero goes out.
Josefina. Your future father-in-law.
Manolo. Why put it in the future?
Josefina. The girl is madly in love with you; make no mistake about that. She told me so herself; she is only waiting for her parents
Manolo. To consent?
Josefina. No, to refuse. Don't you see?
Manolo. May that girl avenge upon her father the wrongs of Moraleda! But they will never refuse; they are too clever for that. He has devised other means. Don Baldomero is going to send me away.
Josefina. You?
Manolo. Yes, he has me in his power. Don Baldomero understands. If it were only a question of myself, if I were the only one, but when it concerns another, the dearest, the most respected… You can guess.
Josefina. My husband?
Manolo. I said the dearest—if I said respected, it was only because I respect that which is exacting of respect.
Josefina. Are you speaking of me? Has Don Baldomero been speaking to you of me? You don't mean to say that he is going to oblige you to renounce your marriage with Esperanza, to leave Moraleda upon my account?
Manolo. As far as the marriage is concerned, I could renounce that well enough. It was you who advised me to make up to Esperanza.
Josefina. She asked me to. It would have been a brilliant match for you, and she would have lost nothing by it. What a difference between you and these country fellows who don't know enough to move out of the club! They never had a serious thought in their lives, but they have all the vices of Madrid—yes, they have. Besides, I had set my heart on it. Our friendship—well, the long and the short of it is that our friendship is a friendship between a man and a woman, and such friendships are always dangerous.
Manolo. But delicious! Love without responsibility; on the contrary, with a certain immunity
Josefina. Immunity? What are you talking about?
Manolo. Why not?
Josefina. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. If you expect any immunity from me you are no friend of mine.
Manolo. Expect? No! Far from it! But when you first confided in my loyalty, when, with tears in your eyes you said to me: "I am alone, all alone in the world. I have nobody but my husband, and there are so many things you cannot confide to a husband, however much you may respect him—for instance, what you think of him—it would be sure to make him angry!"
Josefina. Did I say that?
Manolo. In substance; I may have forgotten the words. Then I clasped your hand and pressed it tenderly, while you said to me: "Be my friend, my true friend!" And from that moment the faith, the trust which you placed in me, all those little confidences which we shared together, which were yours and mine—ours, Josefina—trifles that to another who loved you less might have proved tiresome, a bore, but which only served to increase my affection and captivate my heart… Ah! How happy, how contented we were then, Josefina! How noble I thought myself! How worthy your regard! Believe me, I would not have exchanged this sweet friendship of ours for all the loves of the united world!
Josefina. You are so upright! So noble! [Taking one of his hands.
Manolo. [Taking her other hand] Never doubt me! Never! I would give up everything for you.
Josefina. No, I could not accept such a sacrifice. What did Don Baldomero say?
Manolo. Josefina! Unless I leave immediately, Don Baldomero will drive us all out in disgrace. He is determined. I irritate, I infuriate him.—I don't know whether as suitor to his daughter or as secretary to the Governor; but it is all the same.
Josefina. But have you anything to do in Madrid?
Manolo. Nothing. If I go, I abandon everything. I don't know what will become of me. I have struggled so long, so hard—yes, I am sure of it, these last days a pain has come over my heart… I do not feel well; yes, it is in my heart…
Josefina. Don't say that! It cannot be anything. Do you know, sometimes I feel as if I had an affection there myself? But you mustn't go! I won't let you go! I will explain to Santiago
Manolo. Don Santiago? Do you know that Don Baldomero has a letter of yours in his pocket?
Josefina. A letter of mine? What letter?
Manolo. A letter which you directed to me.
Josefina. But there never was anything in any letter which I directed to you.
Manolo. That depends upon what you call anything. Don't you remember? You had to pay some bills in Madrid which your husband knew nothing about, and it was necessary to obtain money at once. There was only one way to get it. Reinosa demanded a guarantee. Though Don Santiago doesn't count, there was no reason why anybody should trust me; so we agreed that you should write me a letter, and that letter
Josefina. You didn't let that letter get out of your possession?
Manolo. You insult me. Do you suppose that it was I who wanted the guarantee?
Josefina. But why didn't you tell me that you were going to give up that letter?
Manolo. Why did you tell me that if you didn't have that money in Madrid within twenty-four hours, your husband would apply for a separation? So that I shouldn't pay any attention to you, I suppose.
Josefina. Did I tell you that? But don't you see? Now we are in the hands of these people.
Manolo. You didn't suppose that those rascals were going to get you out of debt out of gallantry?
Josefina. You ought to have told me this before. Now what are we to do? If my husband sees that letter
Manolo. He won't see it. I am going away.
Josefina. There will be more trouble! Believe me, this is only the beginning. A woman is never safe until she is dead. No wonder we are deceived so easily when you men who know the world and what it is
Manolo. We do, and that is the reason I intend to get you that letter before I go, cost what it may. I do not purpose to have you suffer upon my account.
Josefina. And I do not purpose to have you lose your position upon mine. And all because my husband lacks character! Suppose he should hear of it? He would be convinced that I had deceived him; he would insist upon it. And I never did; I never deceived anybody—least of all my husband. What difference does it make whether they play for money or don't play for money? Let them play if they want to. What harm is there in it? But no! We must uphold morality, we must act with decorum. As if on the miserable salary a governor gets one could act with decorum! But that is the way you men are; you are all the same. You might have thought of something—but no! You have only one idea—which would have occurred to anybody: "I will go away, you will stay here, alone—alone in the jaws of these wolves who are ravening to devour you, God knows how!" And yet you talk as if I had no heart, as if I cared for nothing but myself, as if you were of no consequence at all! Oh, if I were only a man I would show you! You would see what stuff I had in me!
Manolo. I know already, Josefina. And if you only dared, if I could only count upon you
Josefina. What do you mean?
Manolo. I would accept the challenge and give them battle all along the line. Don Baldomero would soon learn what stuff I had in me. I would raise the downtrodden, I would summon the oppressed, I would stir up against him all those who hate, who despise him, and when he attempted to drive us out, the unanimous voice of the people would be on our side. Ah, if you would only believe in me! If you only had it in you to despise these rapscallions who loom so large in your eyes!
Josefina. What could I do?
Manolo. Attack them on their own ground. In the first place, tell Don Santiago to permit the performance of "Obscurantismo," tell him to go to it, be present yourself.
Josefina. I? What nonsense!
Manolo. Yes, it would seem like nonsense to your friends. Your friends! Were they your friends when you were struggling so hard in Madrid, when they had nothing to get out of you, and you had everything to get out of them?
Josefina. That is true…
Manolo. Then look at the other side. What a triumph with the people! If you had only seen the crowd at the boxoffice! What enthusiasm! What ecstasy! And how easy it would be to take advantage of it! But when the order arrives suspending the performance, and they see in it the influence of the reactionary element—don't deceive yourself, it will precipitate a crisis. It may even necessitate the dismissal of Don Santiago under the most unfavorable circumstances, with the ministry and with the people. On the other hand, suppose that the reactionaries drive him out because he shows leanings toward liberalism. Then the great body of the people will be on his side. They will acclaim him as the champion of popular rights, and the government—the government is in a very critical situation. A crisis will have to be met by making concessions to the liberal elements, and these will have no alternative but to support Don Santiago, to promote him perhaps to a governorship of the first class. That is clear; it is politics. It is necessary to look up, to peer into the far horizons, to cultivate largeness of view and grandeur of soul, and not to fall into the error of believing that to be most important which lies directly under our eyes. Don't you see?
Josefina. No, I don't. I don't see anything at all. It may be, since you say so. If there should be a crisis
Manolo. Make no mistake. There will be one.
Josefina. What makes you think so?
Manolo. The country is disturbed. There are disorders in the provinces. It will soon be necessary to suspend the constitutional guarantees, and for suppressing liberties, you know, there is no government like a liberal one. It inspires greater confidence. Besides, it is fall. There are two seasons in the year which are especially dangerous to any government—the summer when it begins to grow warm, and when the cold weather comes on again in the fall, with the consequent changes of clothes. Thousands of families in the opposition anxious to take baths in the summer, and other thousands uncertain when to change to their heavy underwear in the fall, together these constitute an incalculable force which needs only the slightest pretext in order to overthrow any government. Believe me, if he is to preserve himself, Don Santiago must make overtures to liberalism and the first step for him to take is to permit the performance of "Obscurantismo," in spite of the opposition which it has aroused.
Josefina. But if I tell him that, don't you see, he will think that I am crazy? He will be justified in believing that I am out of my head.
Manolo. Why?
Josefina. Because not half an hour ago I threatened to go back to Madrid if he consented to it.
Manolo. But in half an hour you have seen a new light, you have come to look at the matter from another point of view. When you spoke before, it was upon impulse. Now you advise him more deliberately.
Josefina. But how am I to tell him the opposite of everything which I told him before?
Manolo. You convinced him before against his will. That makes it all the easier.
Josefina. But you don't know what I said! Besides, what good will it do? People will only repeat what the Marchioness said to Doña O: My husband permits the performance because your brother is manager of the company and you have an interest in it. That is the reason you have used your influence with my husband and with me. Imagine what they will invent!
Manolo. Yes, they know everything. The last person I expected to see here was my brother; but he is my brother—yes, he is! He has been knocking about the world as I have been knocking about life, both of us fighting for a foothold, a chance to live—he with his actors and his comedians, I among actors also—and for both of us the real comedy has been the same, the earning of our daily bread; and we have written it with our lives. I am not sorry I met him. He comes in time to remind me that all men are my brothers who at one season or another have had to struggle and fight for their lives as we have done—all of us who are denied the luxury of a conscience which conforms to our acts, the disinherited, the oppressed. I may wear this livery of respectability, of the hypocrite, it is true, but I should be a dastard and a coward if I did not stand by his side, if I did not flaunt this society of Tartuffes, who pretend to defend their principles when they are merely defending their pockets. Liberty, patriotism, religion—fine words these for barricades behind which to bolster up their social position, their salaries, yes, or their interests in dives and gambling-hells, like Don Baldomero. At least I do not deceive—I fight in the open, and I hold to my own. You know that already. Choose! Decide for yourself—you are a woman of courage. You, too, have struggled up, and you ought to know upon which side are yours—upon theirs or upon ours!
Josefina. You are right. I often have thought so myself. We ought not to allow these people to impose upon us. We ought to teach them a lesson. What I don't see is how I am to convince my husband.
Manolo. Here he comes. You can try.
Josefina. He will think I am crazy.
Don Santiago enters.
Santiago. [Greatly pleased with himself] Well, I hope you will be satisfied. [To Manolo] On the whole it is for the best. I have sent a complete explanation to the ministry, and an order of prohibition to the management. Why? What is the matter? What faces! Have I made another mistake? Josefina! Speak!
Josefina. Santiago, a wife ought never to meddle in her husband's affairs. She is too impressionable; the circle of her ideas is too limited, too confined… [Aside to Manolo] How is that?
Manolo. Good!
Josefina. We attach too much importance to trifles, we forget to look up, to peer into the far horizons…
Manolo. Sublime!
Santiago. What is the meaning of all this?
Josefina. The meaning of it is, Santiago, that a sensible man never pays any attention to what he is told by his wife.
Santiago. And has that just occurred to you in the last quarter of an hour? [To Manolo] What do you say?
Manolo. Josefina has been imposed upon by designing persons. Without realizing it, she has been influenced to her disadvantage.
Santiago. You don't mean to tell me that it was a mistake? [To Josefina] I said so from the beginning; and you, you tell me now
Josefina. That you have committed a blunder, that you have fallen into a trap, that you have flown in the face of public opinion, and without a moment's loss of time you ought to save the remnants of your reputation by removing at once this arbitrary, this ridiculous prohibition.
Manolo. More arbitrary than ridiculous…
Santiago. Oh, oh, oh! This is too much! [To Manolo] What am I to do? I knew it! I knew it! Advise me. How will it be possible for me to change my order a second time? My authority will be gone. No, no! This time I will stand by my decree though the heavens fall. Wouldn't it be contemptible if now—tell me impartially
Manolo. Yes… It would…
Josefina. [To Manolo] Back me up. [Aloud] Manolo will tell you, if he is sincere, what he has told me: that you are exposing yourself to a great danger. There will be riots. Your obstinacy will cost you dear.
Santiago. My obstinacy? Great God! What do they call obstinacy?
All begin to speak at the same time.
Josefina. Tell him what you told me
Manolo. I said
Santiago. No, no! I couldn't think of it. Impossible!
Josefina. You will be sorry when it is too late
Manolo. Don't get excited! Please! Please!
Santiago. Not though the heavens fall! Not though a thunderbolt consume Moraleda!
Manolo. Some one is coming.
Josefina. The guests! Not another word! [Moving forward to receive them.
Santiago. I should like to know what Richelieu or Philip II or any other great statesman would have amounted to with such a wife.
Don Basilio, Jimena, and Belisa enter. All exchange bows and salutations.
Josefina. My dears, I am delighted! The first fruits of the evening…
Basilio. Señor Don Santiago!
Belisa. The crowd is so great that positively it would have been impossible for us to have passed if we had been later.
Jimena. A mare magnum; it was like the sea.
Belisa. We were in danger of being squeezed to death.
Jimena. Although we had determined to take the risk.
Josefina. What risk?
Jimena. There was a riot at the theatre.
Santiago. A riot?
Basilio. Hardly a riot. Three or four persons who protested…
Josefina. [Aside to Santiago] You see what you have done.
Santiago. I knew it, I knew it. It is getting dark. I'll turn on the lights. What! There is no current.
Josefina. Who ever saw such wretched service?
Jimena. It is the same at our house.
Manolo. Another monopoly of Don Baldomero's. Everything here belongs to Don Baldomero.
Santiago. With all the illuminations of the fiesta, of course there isn't enough power.
Basilio. Don't talk to me about these modern improvements. As far as I can see, they are nothing but show.
Josefina. [Who has called a servant] Bring candelabra with candles.
Servant. [Handing Manolo a card] A gentleman to see you—and His Excellency. It is important; about the public order, sir.
Manolo. The manager of the theatre.
Josefina. [Aside to Manolo] Your brother?
Manolo. [Idem] Hush! [To Don Santiago] Will you see him?
Santiago. See him yourself, if you want to. I will see nobody. Get out of it if you can. I resign the command.
Josefina. [Aside to Manolo] What are you going to do?
Manolo. [Idem] Fix Don Baldomero! [Aloud] Have I your consent?
Santiago. You have my consent. Do as you see fit—as both of you see fit. In any case I send in my resignation.
Manolo goes aid.
Basilio. With so many responsibilities resting upon your shoulders, it is difficult to understand how you can take so much pleasure in holding office.
Santiago. Pleasure? None whatever, I assure you.
Belisa. [From the balcony] Do you see who is there?
Jimena. Did you ever? Look, papa! Look!
Josefina. What is the matter?
Belisa. One can no longer be sure of the clothes on one's back.
Basilio. Who is it? These girls keep me always with my heart in my throat.
Jimena. It's Tomasa, the maid. She asked permission to go and see the fireworks from her aunt's, and there she is walking up and down with a man who must be her fiancé at least.
Santiago. Possibly.
Jimena. Now if anything happens to her, they will say that we weren't looking out.
Belisa. Or that we set her the example.
Josefina. Heavens! Who would say that?
Jimena. [To Don Basilio] You had better run down and send her home.
Belisa. The next thing you know she will be introducing a man into the house.
Santiago. [Aside to Josefina] What more could they wish?
The Marchioness of Torrelodones and Esperanza enter.
Marchioness of Torrelodones. [To Josefina] We were waiting for you.
Josefina. I have just been in conference. Important business—politics.
Esperanza. Hello, Jimena! Hello, Belisa!
Belisa. How attractive you look this evening! Is that your new gown from Madrid?
Esperanza. No, it's from Paris.—I knew it must be a fright.
Marchioness of Torrelodones. Where is papa? I have scarcely seen him since we arrived in Moraleda. He is becoming quite shameless.
Jimena. Heavens! What a thing to say! And she comes from Madrid.
Belisa. I don't like the fit of her dress.
Jimena. No. Nor the way she does her hair.
Belisa. Have you noticed her walk? Yet they laugh at the provinces.
Josefina. [Aside to the Marchioness] Poetry and Rhetoric are giving us a course.
Marchioness of Torrelodones. They had better look out. There's a tang of the street to every Madrileña, even though she is a marchioness—a touch of the low quarters and the Lavapiés.
Josefina. I can believe it.
Doña O and Polito enter.
Doña O. Everybody is here this evening.
Esperanza. Why, mamma!
Polito. Good evening, ladies.
Josefina. So you got up your courage, did you?
Doña O. After the explanations of your husband. Ah! Don Santiago…
Santiago. Oh! Doña O…
Esperanza. And papa?
Doña O. He was coming with me, but we happened on Polito, so I have him instead. Your father stopped off at the club. He was anxious to inquire… There were rumors afloat…
Basilio. Has there been any trouble?
Doña O. Oh, the rabble—people who have nothing better to do, making a demonstration in front of the theatre.
Belisa. Name of Joseph! Do you think we shall be safe, Don Santiago?
Santiago. Perfectly safe. You have nothing to fear.
Polito. [Aside] Are you angry with me, Esperancita?
Esperanza. I am angry with everybody!
Polito. It doesn't seem possible—when everybody loves you.
Esperanza. I don't care to be loved by everybody.
Polito. How amiable you are this evening!
Esperanza. You ought to know.
Marchioness of Torrelodones. Where is papa?
Polito. We left him at the café with Campos and Reguera. They will drop in later to see the fireworks.
Marchioness of Torrelodones. Really? How jolly!
Doña O. [To Josefina] Those bull-fighters in the Palace? Who ever heard of such effrontery?
The Marchioness of Villaquejido and Teresa enter, accompanied by Don Teodoro and Don Guillermo.
Marchioness of Villaquejido. See whom we are bringing with us!
Teresa. Yes, they are coming by force. They planned to stay below and watch the fireworks from the plaza.
Marchioness of Villaquejido. We declined to trust them, however, in the crowd.
Guillermo. There is a crowd…
Santiago. The fact is, although the plaza is large, the people will press over to one side…
Teodoro. There is a natural tendency to pressure in a crowd.
Marchioness of Villaquejido. You ought to know; you are the talk of Moraleda. My last cook left upon your account.
Guillermo. Ha, ha! Sorcery.
Belisa. At least they show taste; she was a good one.
Jimena. Parsley and onions are their favorite perfumes.
Teodoro. Even among vegetables, we have learned to discriminate.
Belisa. How polite!
Jimena. Don't bother with them. They are confirmed bachelors, both.
Teresa. I simply adore fireworks.
Marchioness of Torrelodones. You won't get much of that sort of thing in the convent.
Teresa. So I am making the most of my opportunities now. Look at those boys!… Did you ever?
The Marquis of Torrelodones, Campos and Reguera enter.
Marquis. [Bowing] Ladies and gentlemen!
All exchange greetings.
Marchioness of Torrelodones. [To Campos] Step out for a moment upon the balcony, Campos. I have a favor to ask of you.
Campos. At your service, señorita.
Marchioness of Torrelodones. I want to take your picture. So—that is perfect.
Campos. Preparing to thrust, eh? How is this?
Marchioness of Torrelodones. Divine! There! [She takes the picture] Bring up a chair.
Doña O. [To Josefina] She takes him out on the balcony so that people can see her with him. She talks of nothing else.
Josefina. I know it. And people are beginning to grow nervous.
Marquis. Yes, sir, there was a great commotion all about the theatre. Some shouted "Prohibition," others "No prohibition!" There were boos and vivas—cries of "Death!"
Santiago. Why wasn't I informed of this before? Call the police. [Rings] Public order must be preserved at any cost.
Marchioness of Villaquejido. Is anything wrong? What is the matter?
Santiago. No, nothing is the matter. Are there no servants in the house? A good government! A pretty government!
Don Baldomero enters.
All. [As he appears] What is the matter? What has happened?
Esperanza. Papa!
Baldomero. A barbarity! An atrocity! Stand back, for God's sake! They have insulted me.
All. You!
Baldomero. A riot! A mob! A demonstration in front of the theatre, and they are marching here singing the "Hymn of Riego"!
Marchioness of Villaquejido. The "Hymn of Riego"? Goodness! When we heard it in my day, we always ran to hide the silver.
Teodoro. Since then it has marched off to other tunes, so now she can spare herself the trouble.
Manolo enters, followed by the Clerk.
Manolo. Don Santiago! Quick! They are marching on the Palace. You can hear them: "Long live liberty!" and "Death! Death"… [To Don Baldomero] Principally to you.
Santiago. Quick! My stick! My hat! No, not my new one… [The women scream. Belisa faints] Stand back!
Baldomero. And all this because you lack character!
Santiago. If you had only let me do my duty…
Doña O. Now you see what it means to pander to the people.
Josefina. It is my husband's fault—yes, for having listened to you! Didn't you tell us that everybody was on your side?
Shouts, cries of "Viva!" and "Death!"
All. Here they come! Shut the windows! Don't be afraid. Look out for stones! Turn down the lights!
Great confusion. The lights are turned down.
Santiago. Where am I? Let me go!
Josefina. Don't go, Santiago! Don't go!
Santiago. Duty before everything! [Tremendous explosion in the plaza. A red glow illuminates the windows at the rear. Shouts and cries] An explosion! Fire!
Manolo. The fireworks have gone off!
Doña O. Alas for Moraleda!
Marchioness of Villaquejido. It is the end of the world!
Josefina. And it is all your fault!
Curtain