Doña Ángela. Come, then. [To Dr. Tomás.] And you too. I would like you to see her. For the past three days fever alone has lent her strength. My daughter, my dear child is very ill.
Dr. Tomás. Poor girl! [Exeunt Doña Ángela, Duchess, and Dr. Tomás.]
SCENE VI
Edward. They persist in doubting. What blindness! They can't understand that the unfortunate gentleman, from force of seeking, not the righting of wrongs, like the Errant Knight, but the reason of all the varied rights invented by the accumulated wisdom of centuries, has ended by losing the only one that Providence saw fit to bestow upon him—namely, natural reason. Oh, but this must not be. I cannot allow them to sacrifice my dear one's life to the extravagances of a poor madman.
SCENE VII
Edward, Inés, comes out by closet R., where the keepers are concealed, agitated, and as if fleeing.
Inés. What are those men? Who are they?
Edward. [Rushing towards her.] Inés, my beloved! How pale you are! Your divine glance is hemmed round by deep purple shadow.
Inés. But answer me. Who are they? What are they waiting for? Send them away. [Approaches the door cautiously and peeps in; Edward endeavours to lead her down the stage.] There is something sinister about them. My father—where is my father? I was looking for him between the drawing-room and yonder closet, and I saw them—I can't bear the sight of them, and yet I cannot take my eyes from off them.
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