Teodora. You may count upon it, Mercedes. But come to the end of the matter now.
Mercedes. Up to to-day, Teodora, I shrank from this step, but Severo urges me. 'It can't go on,' he insists. 'My brother's honour and my own self-esteem forbid me to witness that which fills me with shame and sorrow. On all sides am I assailed with innuendoes, with the smiles, the covert glances and the reproaches of my friends. There must be an end to this low gossip about us.'
Teodora. Continue, pray.
Mercedes. Then heed me. [They exchange a prolonged gaze.]
Teodora. Tell me, what is the gossip?
Mercedes. The murmuring of the river tells us that its waters are swollen.
Teodora. I understand nothing of your river and its swollen waters, but do not drive me wild.
Mercedes. [Aside.] Poor child! My heart grieves for her. [Aloud.] So you do not understand me?
Teodora. I? not in the least.
Mercedes. [Aside.] How stupid she is! [Aloud, energetically.] You make a laughing-stock of him.
Teodora. Of whom?
Mercedes. Why, of your husband, of course.
Teodora. [Impetuously, rising.] Julian! what a falsehood! What wretch could say so? Julian would strike him!
Mercedes. [Endeavouring to soothe her and make her sit down.] He would need a good many hands, then; for, if report speak truly, he would have to strike the entire town.
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