DOÑA 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! DOÑA 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. DOÑA LAURA. Poor Laura! DON GONZALO. Poor Gonzalo! DOÑA 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. DOÑA 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. DOÑA LAURA. Because you scared away the birds. DON GONZALO. I was in a bad temper. DOÑA 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. DOÑA LAURA. Thank you very much. They are very interesting and deserve to be noticed. I wonder where my maid is? [_Doña Laura rises; Don Gonzalo also rises._] What time can it be? [_Doña Laura walks toward left._] DON GONZALO. It is nearly twelve o'clock. Where can that scamp Juanito be? [_Walks toward right._] DOÑA 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 identity. I am a grotesque figure now. Better that she recall the gallant horseman who passed daily under her window and tossed her flowers. DOÑA 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._] DOÑA 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 passed through the rose path in that garden. [_Juanito enters by right: Petra by left. She has a bunch of violets in her hand._]