DOnA LAURA. And was it you, by chance, who advised your cousin to forget Laura?
DON GONZALO. Why, my cousin never forgot her for one instant.
DOnA LAURA. How do you account, then, for his conduct?
DON GONZALO. I will explain. The young man first took refuge in my house, fearful of the consequences of his duel with that man, so much beloved in that locality. From my home he went to Seville, then came to Madrid. He wrote to Laura many letters, some in verse. But, undoubtedly, they were intercepted by her parents, for she never answered them.
Gonzalo then, in despair, and believing his loved one lost to him forever, joined the army, went to Africa, and there, in a trench, met a glorious death, grasping the flag of Spain and repeating the name of his beloved--Laura--Laura--Laura.
DOnA LAURA [_aside_]. What an atrocious lie!
DON GONZALO [_aside_]. I could not have killed myself in a more glorious manner.
DOnA LAURA. Such a calamity must have caused you the greatest sorrow.
DON GONZALO. Yes, indeed, Senora. As great as if it were a brother. I presume though, that on the contrary, Laura in a short time was chasing b.u.t.terflies in her garden, indifferent to everything.
DOnA LAURA. No, Senor, no indeed.
DON GONZALO. It is usually a woman"s way.
DOnA LAURA. Even if you consider it a woman"s way, the "Silver Maiden"
was not of that disposition. My friend awaited news for days, months, a year, and no letter came. One afternoon, just at sunset, and as the first stars were appearing, she was seen to leave the house, and with quick steps, wend her way toward the beach, that beach where her beloved had risked his life. She wrote his name on the sand, then sat upon a rock, her gaze fixed upon the horizon. The waves murmured their eternal monologue and slowly covered the rock where the maiden sat. Shall I tell you the rest?--The tide rose and carried her off to sea.
DON GONZALO. Good heavens!
DOnA LAURA. The fishermen of that sea-coast who tell the story, affirm that it was a long time before the waves washed away that name written on the sand. [_Aside._] You will not get ahead of me in inventing a romantic death.
DON GONZALO [_aside_]. She lies more than I do.
DOnA LAURA. Poor Laura!
DON GONZALO. Poor Gonzalo!
DOnA LAURA [_aside_]. I will not tell him that in two years I married another.
DON GONZALO [_aside_]. I will not tell her that in three months I went to Paris with a ballet dancer.
DOnA LAURA. What strange pranks Fate plays! Here you and I, complete strangers, met by chance, and in discussing the romance of friends of long ago, we have been conversing as we were old friends.
DON GONZALO. Yes, it is strange, considering we commenced our conversation quarreling.
DOnA LAURA. Because you scared away the birds.
DON GONZALO. I was in a bad temper.
DOnA LAURA. Yes, that was evident. [_Sweetly._] Are you coming to-morrow?
DON GONZALO. Most certainly, if it is a sunny morning. And not only will I not scare away the birds, but will also bring them bread crumbs.
DOnA LAURA. Thank you very much. They are very interesting and deserve to be noticed. I wonder where my maid is? [_Dona Laura rises; Don Gonzalo also rises._] What time can it be? [_Dona Laura walks toward left._]
DON GONZALO. It is nearly twelve o"clock. Where can that scamp Juanito be? [_Walks toward right._]
DOnA LAURA. There she is talking with her guard. [_Signals with her hand for her maid to approach._]
DON GONZALO [_looking at Laura, whose back is turned. Aside_]. No, no, I will not reveal my ident.i.ty. I am a grotesque figure now. Better that she recall the gallant horseman who pa.s.sed daily under her window and tossed her flowers.
DOnA LAURA. How reluctant she is to leave him. Here she comes.
DON GONZALO. But where can Juanito be? He has probably forgotten everything in the society of some nursemaid. [_Looks toward right and signals with his hand._]
DOnA LAURA [_looking at Gonzalo, whose back is turned. Aside_]. No, I will not tell him I am Laura. I am too sadly altered. It is better he should remember me as the blackeyed girl who tossed him flowers as he pa.s.sed through the rose path in that garden.
[_Juanito enters by right: Petra by left. She has a bunch of violets in her hand._]
DOnA LAURA. Well, Petra, I thought you were never coming.
DON GONZALO. But, Juanito, what delayed you so? It is very late.
PETRA [_handing violets to Dona Laura_]. My lover gave me these violets for you, Senora.
DOnA LAURA. How very nice of him. Thank him for me. They are very fragrant. [_As she takes the violets from her maid, a few loose ones drop to the ground._]
DON GONZALO. My dear Senora, this has been a great honor and pleasure.
DOnA LAURA. And it has also been a pleasure to me.
DON GONZALO. Good-by until to-morrow.
DOnA LAURA. Until to-morrow.
DON GONZALO. If it is a sunny day.
DOnA LAURA. If it is a sunny day. Will you go to your bench?
DON GONZALO. No, Senora, I will come to this, if you do not object?
DOnA LAURA. This bench is at your disposal. [_Both laugh._]
DON GONZALO. And I will surely bring the bread crumbs. [_Both laugh again._]
DOnA LAURA. Until to-morrow.
DON GONZALO. Until to-morrow.
[_Laura walks away on her maid"s arm toward right. Gonzalo, before leaving with Juanito, trembling and with a great effort, stoops to pick up the violets Laura dropped. Just then, Laura turns her head and sees him pick up flowers._]
JUANITO. What are you doing, Senor?