_Inés and Edward._
INES. [_Going toward him._] Edward, Edward!
EDWARD. My darling.
INES. How late you are!
EDWARD. [_Submissively._] I always come at two o'clock.
INES. It is now three.
EDWARD. Is it possible? [_Looks at his watch._] No, my beloved, it is
only a quarter to two.
INES. [_Authoritatively._] It is three o'clock.
EDWARD. [_Shows her his watch._] A quarter to two. Are you convinced?
[_Points to the clock on mantelpiece._] And look there—it is the same
hour.
INES. [_Offended._] Well, I suppose you are right. What an accomplished
lover to haggle over minutes! It is always too early to come, too late
to stay with his Inés, and he subjects the beats of his heart to the
measurements of his time-piece.
EDWARD. [_Beseechingly._] Inés.
INES. Go away, go away. It is not yet two—it still wants fifteen minutes
to the hour. Go and take a turn about the streets, and look at the
people, and come back at two sharp.
EDWARD. Inés!
INÉS. That is your hour for coming. A nice thing indeed if you were to
come earlier. What would the Astronomical Observatory think of that?
EDWARD. Do forgive me—I was wrong.
INÉS. No, the error was mine. Desire hastens onward the hours for me,
and you, to punish me, come and hold up a watch before my eyes.
[_Makes a quick movement and seems to hold something to his face._]
What a poetic lover!
EDWARD. I confess my fault. I repent and humbly beg your pardon.
INÉS. Ah, you admit it. That is better.
EDWARD. You see I was so happy and delighted to come that I quite lost
knowledge of what I was saying, and even now I scarcely know what it
is I am saying.
INÉS. It was also wrong of me to scold you so, Edward. But I was so gay,
so wild with eagerness in my desire to see you, that the moments
seemed centuries to me.
EDWARD. Ah, I have to tell you, my own——
INÉS. [_Pays no heed to him._] I have such great news for you.
EDWARD. [_Also does not heed her._] At last we are within reach of
bliss.
INÉS. I should think so—for life.
EDWARD. How improbable it looks!
INÉS. My father has promised this day—this very day—you understand?—But
you are not listening.
EDWARD. [_Still not heeding her._] My mother——
INÉS. Your mother! What?
EDWARD. She is coming here in half an hour to propose our marriage.
INÉS. The duchess!
EDWARD. [_With comic gravity._] Her grace, the Duchess of Almonte, will
have the honour to beg this white hand [_takes her hand_] of Mr. and
Mrs. Avendaña for her son Edward, although that same Edward has long
since possessed himself of it, and holds it warm against his heart,
and I have small faith in his being persuaded to relinquish it, even
should it be refused him.
INÉS. She! really—she is coming! Ah, every one was right to call that
woman a saint.
EDWARD. That woman is my mother. She loves me with all her heart, and
this morning I besought her with tears in my eyes, and she, with
answering tears, flung her arms round me and yielded to my prayer. She
attaches first importance to the glorious deeds of her ancestors, and
worships honour fanatically, and would far sooner see me dead than my
name linked with one that bore the slightest stain. But she fully
appreciates the worth of Don Lorenzo, his scientific renown—which is
another kind of glory—and his——
INÉS. That will do. We have enough of the tale—the conclusion is that
she comes here to-day, that we are to be married, and that we are
going to be immeasurably happy—is it not so? That is the chief
thing—at least it is so for me—I cannot answer for you.
EDWARD. Ungrateful girl! Do you doubt me?
INÉS. I do not doubt you. But how lucky it is for me that your mother
has consented!——if not! You love me dearly, I know—but you——a mother
has a claim upon your obedience. If she said 'No,' like a good son,
Edward—not so?—you would have spared her pain, and despite your soul's
deep sorrow, you would have left your poor Inés, who so tenderly loves
you. Don't listen, bad boy! Let nobody hear the whisper—but, indeed, I
do love you so much that without you—see how foolish I am!—I should
have died of grief.
EDWARD. Dearest!
INÉS. So you see how grateful I ought to be to your mother, since it is
not to you but to her that I owe my happiness.
EDWARD. You cruel girl! Don't you know what I should have done in spite
of every obstacle? You feel it.
INÉS. Yes. You would have obeyed and given me up.
EDWARD. Never,—for nothing, for nobody.
INÉS. Will you swear it?
EDWARD. I swear it by all that is holy.
INÉS. There, I am content.
EDWARD. And I most blissful.