Edward. [Going toward Doña Ángela.] Then, madam, let us probe the misfortune that has struck you. Whether is it called dishonour or madness? This is the problem we have to solve. Should Don Lorenzo be correct, should he be in his sound senses, should there be proof forthcoming of his assertion, it is for us to respect his cruel virtue. But if, as I (by a thousand signs that almost constitute evidence) believe, an eternal cloud has dimmed his intellect, and the light of his reason is for ever quenched,—then defend yourself, Doña Ángela. It is your most sacred duty. Defend the name you bear, your social position, even Don Lorenzo's honour, against his own raving; defend,—why should I keep it back?—Inés' life and her life's felicity. Do not, madam, leave such almighty interests and so dear an object at the mercy of a madman.
Duchess. Edward!
Edward. The word is a harsh one, but the time has come to pronounce it. Once for all, let us learn the fact whether this battle for reputation and existence into which Don Lorenzo has cast us is what it seems or what I fear:—whether, finally, the heroic sacrifice of this implacable scholar is insanity or sanctity.
Duchess. Enough, Edward. [Doña Ángela sits down on sofa, weeping bitterly. Duchess goes over to her.]
Dr. Tomás. [To Edward.] The happiness of this family affects me as closely as my own. What you propose to do has already been considered, and both the law and science will be called in to decide.
Duchess. I hope to Heaven the darkness will be illuminated for you. [To Doña Ángela.] Come, come, madam: courage, resignation! Where is Inés?
Doña Ángela. Do you wish to see her?
Duchess. Yes.
176
