in arms when your father died. Now, he is the one I am worried about. A son, a brother, doesn't know what it means to keep house, to support a family. He imagines his wife will be just like we are; but Emilia will have her ideas…
Don Hilario's voice is heard outside.
Luisa. I think I hear Don Hilario.
Don Hilario enters.
Carmen. Don Hilario!
Hilario. What is this? How is the invalid? They told me she had had a violent attack.
Luisa. I only frightened mamma.
Carmen. Yes, doctor, it was rather violent. Fortunately, it passed quickly.
Hilario. Come, come! Do you feel distress? Any oppression? Palpitation?
Luisa. No, not now.
Hilario. How is the appetite?
Carmen. She hasn't any; she doesn't eat. I am dreadfully worried. Isn't there anything that we can do for this child? Can't we cure her somehow, Don Hilario?
Hilario. Ah, Doña Carmen, we could open this balcony to the sea or to the green fields, instead of on this narrow, dirty street; we could throw those inner windows wide to the sunshine and fresh air, instead of opening them upon a dusky, murky court, heavy with kitchen smells; we could bring a little love and a little happiness to Luisita's heart along with the sunshine and fresh air!
Carmen. Yes, you are right. That is the only cure.
Hilario. But sunshine and fresh air, sea breezes and the scent of the fields, love with its illusions and desires, which are so necessary to the young, are gifts which God has scattered through the world, but which man has made so dear. Believe me, the diseases which science has not yet been able
