José Echegaray

“ What did it matter to the public if we, fulfilling a sacred duty, treated Ernest, I as a son, and Teodora as a brother? Is it reason enough to assume the worst, and trumpet scandal because a fine lad sits at my table, walks out with my wife, and has his seat in my opera-box? Is by chance impure love the sole supreme bond between man and woman in this world of clay? Is there no friendship, gratitude, sympathy, esteem, that youth and beauty should only meet in the mire? ”

“ Ernest. If you see me crying, while sobs shake my throat in an hysterical convulsion, and I seem as weak as a child, or a woman, believe me, it is not for myself, but for him—for her—for their lost happiness, for this indelible blot upon their name,—for the affront I am the cause of, in return for all their love and kindness. It is not my fault, but my utter misfortune. That is why I weep. My God, if I could wipe out this wretched past with tears, I would gladly weep away my blood to the last drop. ”

“ There's no quieting him. Anger races hot through his veins, and thought is a flame. It is shocking, mother, to see the bitter way his lips contract, and how his fingers close in a vice, with head all wild, and pupils dilated as though they drank in with yearning and despair every shadow that floats around the chamber.
Mercedes. How does your father bear it?
Pepito. He groans and breathes of vengeance. He, too, mutters the names of Teodora and Ernest. I hope to God he will not meet either, for if he should, small chance there is of restraining his fury. ”

“ Does gossip, as it grows, disclose the hidden sin? Is it a reflex of the past, or does it invent evil and give it existence? Does it set its accursed seal upon an existent fault, or merely breed that which was yet not, and furnish the occasion for wrong? Should we call the slanderer infamous or severe? the accomplice or the divulger? the public avenger or the tempter? Does he arrest or precipitate our fall? wound through taste or duty? and when he condemns, is it from justice or from spite? Perhaps both, Don Julian. ”

“ Ernest. Listen, Mercedes. When a man such as I am is abused, and for no reason on earth treated as a blackguard, and finds himself snared, with crime thrust upon him, 'tis indeed a perilous case,—for others rather than for himself. I, in this fierce struggle with miserable fate, have lost honour, friendship and love, and have now nothing more to lose but the shabby shreds of an insipid and dreary existence. ”

“ If with my death at this very instant I could blot out all the misery that lies to my account, not through any fault of mine, but through an implacable fate, I should not now be standing here alive. You may believe it on the word of an honourable man. No shadow of the past would remain,—neither sighs nor pain to remember, nor that sorrowful pallor of your face [Teodora starts and glances at him in terror] , nor the grieved fear of those eyes, nor sobs that tear the throat, nor tears that line the cheek. [Teodora sobs.] ”

“ And Teodora?
Mercedes. She is upstairs. She wanted to come down—and cried—like a Magdalen.
Pepito. Already! Repentant or erring?
Mercedes. Don't speak so. Unhappy girl, she is but a child.
Pepito. Who, innocent and candid, sweet and pure and meek, kills Don Julian. So that, if I am to accept your word, and regard her as a child, and such is her work on the edge of infancy, we may pray God in his mercy to guard us from her when she shall have put on years.
Mercedes. She is hardly to be blamed. The infamy lies with your fine friend—he of the dramas, the poet and dreamer. ”

“ Teodora. That only my husband, the man who loves me, has a right to defend me.
Ernest. Every honourable man has the right to defend a lady. He may not even know her, be neither a friend, nor a relative, nor a lover. It is enough for him to hear a woman insulted. Why do I fight this duel? Why do I defend her? Because I heard the calumny. Because I am myself. ”

“ At another time, such a question would drive the blood of anger to my brow, and to-day, you see, I am discussing with you whether I am honest or not. Yes, am I really so? To the depth of the soul? No, for endurance of this humiliation proves me worthy of it. [Hides her face in her hands and flings herself down in the arm-chair.]
Mercedes. Do not cry so, Teodora. I believe in you. Enough. No more tears. Let me but add one more word, and there's an end to the matter. Ernest is not what you believe him to be. He is not worthy of your trust. ”

“ Then it pronounces and judges, and there is no logic that can convince it, nor living man who can hope to persuade it, and the honestest has not a rag of honour left. And the terrible thing is, that while it begins in error it generally ends in truth. The atmosphere is so dense, misery so envelops the pair, such is the press and torrent of slander, that they unconsciously seek one another, unite lovelessly, drift toward their fall, and adore each other until death. The world was the stumbling-stone of virtue, and made clear the way for shame—was Galeoto and— [aside] stay! ”

“ They tell me that you are starting for America to-morrow—and I—yes—like those who go away perhaps not to return—it is so sad to lose a friend!—before Julian—before the whole world—thinking only of our affection—I myself, Ernest, would have held out my arms to you—in farewell.
Ernest. [Starts and quickly restrains himself.] Oh, Teodora!
Teodora. But now I suppose it is not the same thing. There is a gulf between us.
Ernest. You are right, madam. We may no longer care for one another, be no longer brother and sister. The mutual touch of palm would leave our hands unclean. ”

“ Severo. Quite so. Every one likes plenty of light.
Servant. Madam?
Teodora. Bring the lamps, Genaro. [Exit servant.]
Severo. He who follows the narrow path of loyalty and duty, and is always that which he appears to be, need never fear the light, nor blush in its glare.
[The servant enters with lamps, the stage is brilliantly illuminated. After a pause.]
Teodora. [Laughing naturally.] So I should think, and such, I imagine, is the general opinion. [Looks at Mercedes.]
Mercedes. I suppose so.
Severo. Hulloa, Don Ernest! what were you doing out there? ”

“ Such is the natural reward of every generous action, of every unusual impulse that prompts one man to help another quietly, without a flourish of trumpet or self-advertisement—just for friendship's or for honesty's sake.
D. Severo. You are unjust to yourself. To such an excess have you pushed gratitude, that you have almost sacrificed honour and fortune to it. What more could be expected—even of a saint? There's a limit to all things, good and evil. He is proud and obstinate, and, however much you may oppose him, 'tis none the less a fact that he's his own master. ”

“ Ernest. Sir, I have come to the conclusion that others, seeing me housed and fed here, are saying of me what I long have thought. They see me constantly driving out with you, in the morning walking with Teodora or Mercedes, in your opera-box, hunting on your lands, and daily occupying the same place at your table. Though you would like to think otherwise, in one way or another the gossip runs: Who is he? Is he a relation? Not so. The secretary? Still less. A partner? If a partner, it may be accepted he brings little or nothing to the general fund. ”

“ Pepito. [Listening.] Somebody is coming.
Mercedes. Is it he?
Pepito. [Going down the stage.] No, 'tis Teodora.
Ernest. Teodora! Teodora! I want to see her.
Mercedes. [Sternly.] Ernest!
Ernest. Yes, I must ask her to forgive me.
Mercedes. You don't remember——
Ernest. I remember everything and understand. We two together! Ah, no. Enough. You need not fear. For her would I shed my blood, lay down my life, sacrifice my future, honour—all! But see her? never. 'Tis no longer possible. The mist of blood has risen between us. [Goes out on the left.]
SCENE V.
Doña Mercedes and Pepito. ”

“ Not only does miserable calumny stain us, but it degrades us. It is so steeped in evil, that, against all evidence, its very breath takes the bloom off our consciences. Why should an idle terror cast its mean influence over me? [At this moment Don Julian appears on the threshold of the first door on the right hand side, and behind him stands Don Severo.]
Teodora. Julian!
D. Julian. Teodora! [She runs over to him, and he folds her in a passionate embrace.] Here in my arms, dearest. It is the home of your honour.
SCENE VII
Teodora, Doña Mercedes, Don Julian, and Don Severo. ”

“ Why, traitors? Why do your eyes gleam so? Tell me, Ernest. There are no tears in them to make them shine. Come nearer—nearer to me. [Draws Ernest to him, bends his head, and then succeeds in thrusting him upon his knees. Thus Teodora is on one side of Don Julian and Ernest at his feet. Don Julian passes his hand across the young man's eyes.] You see—no tears—they are quite dry. ”

“ Teodora. [Also apart to Don Julian.] He doesn't live in this world.
D. Julian. Just so. He's full of depth and learning, and lets himself be drowned in a pool of water.
Ernest. [Meditatively.] True, I know little of life, and am not well fitted to make my way through it. But I divine it, and shudder, I know not why. Shall I founder on the world's pool as upon the high sea? I may not deny that it terrifies me far more than the deep ocean. The sea only reaches the limit set by the loose sand: over all space travel the emanations of the pool. ”

“ Listen, Teodora. It is but a debt we owe to look after the poor fellow as if he were a relative, and obligation runs with the exactions of our affection. So much for himself, so much for his father's son. But every human action is complex, has two points of view, and every medal has its reverse. ”

“ Oh, what does it matter?
[Teodora moves away from Mercedes, who shifts her seat on the sofa to follow her. The double movement of repugnance and aloofness on Teodora's part, and of insistence and protection on Mercedes', is very marked.]
Mercedes. The man is a shabby-hearted betrayer, who, for one hour of pleasure, would thrust upon the woman a life of sorrow: the husband's dishonour, the ruin of a family, and she left shamed and condemned to social penitence in the world's disdain, and to keener punishment still at the whip of her own conscience. ”

“ For, after all, if the fellow lack a sense of honour, he can use a sword.
Teodora. [Wounded and humiliated in the protection Ernest seems to offer Don Julian.] My husband is not lacking in courage.
Ernest. Fatality again! Either I have expressed myself ill, or you do not understand me. I know his worth. But when a desperate injury lies between men of courage, who knows what may happen? which of them may fall, and which may kill? And if this man's sword must strike Don Julian or Ernest, can you doubt which it ought to be? ”

“ It is what drives me wild: by the living God, I protest it is not worthy of pity, and there is no excuse for it. That the man should exist who could doubt a woman like you!
Teodora. Poor fellow, he pays a heavy price for his savage distrust.
Ernest. [Horrified to find he has been blaming Don Julian to Teodora.] What have I said? I don't accuse him—no—I meant—— [He hastens to exculpate Don Julian and modify his former words.] Anybody might feel the same, that is, if he were very much in love. In our earthly egoism, don't we doubt the very God in heaven? ”

“ D. Julian. [To Pepito.] And you! The deuce, why don't you offer your arm to your mother? My good brother Severo will take mine. So, quite a family party, and now let pleasure flow with the wine in our glasses. So there are gossips about? Well, let them chatter and scream. A farthing for all they can say. I shouldn't object to a glass house, that they might have the pleasure of staring in at Teodora and Ernest together, and learn how little I care for their spite and their calumnies. Each man to his fancy. ”

“ Each especial case, I have remarked, has its own especial go-between. Sometimes it is the entire social mass that is Galeoto. It then unconsciously exercises the office under the influence of a vice of quite another aspect, but so dexterously does it work against honour and modesty that no greater Galeoto can ever be found. Let a man and woman live happily, in tranquil and earnest fulfilment of their separate duties. Nobody minds them, and they float along at ease. ”

“ It is useless. It won't prevent me from—— [Approaches Teodora.]
Pepito. [Restraining him.] Father——
Ernest. Stay. [Pause.] Let nobody touch this woman. She is mine. The world has so desired it, and its decision I accept. It has driven her to my arms. Come, Teodora. [He raises her, and sustains her.] You cast her forth from here. We obey you.
D. Severo. At last, you blackguard!
Ernest. Yes; now you are right. I will confess now. Do you want passion? Then passion and delirium. Do you want love? Then love—boundless love. Do you want more? ”