Page:The great Galeoto; Folly or saintliness; two plays done from the verse of José Echegaray into English prose by Hannah Lynch (IA greatgaleotofoll00echerich).djvu/81

 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. If he chooses to leave your palace in a fit of despair, for this shanty—'tis his right. I admit, my dear boy, that it's very sad—but then, who could have prevented it?

. The world in general, if it would mind its own business instead of tearing and rending reputations by the movement of its tongue and the sign of its hand. 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? And even supposing that the conclusion of the fools was the right one, is it their business to avenge me? I have my own eyes to look after my own affairs, and to avenge my wrongs have I not courage, steel, and my own right hand?

. Well, accepting that outsiders were wrong to talk, did you expect me, who am of your blood and bear your name, to hold my tongue?

. By heavens, no! But you should have been more careful. You might have told me alone of this sorry business, and not have set flame to a conflagration under my very roof.

. I erred through excess of affection, I admit. But while I confess that the world and I have done the mischief—it by inventing the situation, and I by weakly crediting, and by giving voice to the shabby innuendoes—you, Julian [approaches him and speaks with 41