CLEOFAS. It is magic, Cardenos, do not doubt it. This sorceress is
competing with me dishonestly. This is not all--she takes no pay from
the poor for her attention or her medicines. And will you believe me
when I tell you that she sends them away with their hands full of
gold?--We shall have to struggle now!--Our practise is being ruined.
CARDENOS. Your Honor may be reassured--they have an eye on her.
[An agent of the Inquisition, dressed in black, enters from the
street.]
THE AGENT. (Going to them) Lord Cardenos, His Eminence prays you to
come without delay, for urgent business.
CARDENOS. I shall come at once!--This, Master Cleofas, may have
something to do with your Mooress.
CLEOFAS. Good! Good!
[Cardenos and the man go into the street. They play a saraband in
the banquet hall.]