Luisa. Don't you deceive yourself; I have never been so happy. When did you ever see me laugh as much as I do now?
Julio. There are two ways of smiling, of pretending to be happy when a person is sad. One is bitterly, that is irony; the other is gently, that is resignation; and it is your way. Either is as cheerful as flowers on a tomb where one's illusions lie buried. Your cheerfulness does not deceive me. Confess it, dear Sister Luisa, I am right—gentle and resigned as you are!
Luisa. Are you going to cry?
Julio. I wish you could teach me your gentle resignation, which smiles so that others may have no occasion to cry.
Luisa. It is very simple. You suffer because you have done wrong. It is remorse, because you make others cry.
Julio. But what can I do? Give up Emilia? Is that what you ask? Is that what you want me to do?
Luisa. No, Julio, surely not. But don't you dream of what you have been planning again. Don't you suppose that we know? To go away, to leave us, to try your fortune in some strange country, far away! To be sure, mamma knows, although she won't admit it. That is why she has been so depressed these past days. We could resign ourselves to anything but that—to have you leave us forever, because it would be forever.
Julio. But life here has become impossible for us all. However I might wish to believe the contrary, no illusions upon that point can be had. I love Emilia from the bottom of my heart, I cannot give up her love; but I recognize also that I cannot desert you. Without me, this house would be reduced to the direst poverty. I realize that to marry under these circumstances is a hazardous step; our love itself may be the first victim to fall by the way. I have made every
