Inés. For the love of God, father, for the love of me, for all the tears shed by those eyes you used to kiss so fondly when I was a child. [Lifts her hands to her eyes, and then offers them to Don Lorenzo to kiss.] See how the drops still flow from my eyelids. My fingers are wet with them. Kiss them, and let your lips taste of their bitterness.
Don Lorenzo. Yes—I will kiss them—I will kiss them—but, alas! if one of mine should fall upon them.
Juana. [Aside.] Fall, fall, so he said. I also am falling into the bottomless abyss. But first, first I must embrace my son.
Inés. Father! [Don Lorenzo retreats. Doña Ángela, Inés and the duchess follow him.]
Doña Ángela. Lorenzo!
Juana. 'Twas Lorenzo they called. There—there—I see something.
Don Lorenzo. No, no—a thousand times, no. Would you degrade me?
Inés. And you, father—who would believe it?—would kill me. If not, why do you seek to place an obstacle between me and the love of my life?
Don Lorenzo. No, my Inés, no—the duchess—it is the duchess.
Inés. It is not true. The duchess consents.
Don Lorenzo. At the cost of my honour.
Duchess. Not so, Inés. In exchange for silence.
Inés. Don't you hear her, father?
Don Lorenzo. [Moving away and repulsing her.] I only hear voices begging my conscience of me. I only see shadows pursuing me through the shadows—phantasms
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