DON JUAN. The old man called it murder, because he was, he said, defending his daughter's honor. By this he meant that because I foolishly fell in love with her and told her so, she screamed; and he tried to assassinate me after calling me insulting names. THE OLD WOMAN. You were like all men. Libertines and murderers all, all, all! DON JUAN. And yet we meet here, dear lady. THE OLD WOMAN. Listen to me. My father was slain by just such a wretch as you, in just such a duel, for just such a cause. I screamed: it was my duty. My father drew on my assailant: his honor demanded it. He fell: that was the reward of honor. I am here: in hell, you tell me that is the reward of duty. Is there justice in heaven? DON JUAN. No; but there is justice in hell: heaven is far above such idle human personalities. You will be welcome in hell, Senora. Hell is the home of honor, duty, justice, and the rest of the seven deadly virtues. All the wickedness on earth is done in their name: where else but in hell should they have their reward? Have I not told you that the truly damned are those who are happy in hell? THE OLD WOMAN. And are you happy here? DON JUAN. [Springing to his feet] No; and that is the enigma on which I ponder in darkness. Why am I here? I, who repudiated all duty, trampled honor underfoot, and laughed at justice! THE OLD WOMAN. Oh, what do I care why you are here? Why am I here? I, who sacrificed all my inclinations to womanly virtue and propriety! DON JUAN. Patience, lady: you will be perfectly happy and at home here. As saith the poet, "Hell is a city much like Seville." THE OLD WOMAN. Happy! here! where I am nothing! where I am nobody! DON JUAN. Not at all: you are a lady; and wherever ladies are is hell. Do not be surprised or terrified: you will find everything here that a lady can desire, including devils who will serve you from sheer love of servitude, and magnify your importance for the sake of dignifying their service--the best of servants. THE OLD WOMAN. My servants will be devils! DON JUAN. Have you ever had servants who were not devils? THE OLD WOMAN. Never: they were devils, perfect devils, all of them. But that is only a manner of speaking. I thought you meant that my servants here would be real devils. DON JUAN. No more real devils than you will be a real lady. Nothing is real here. That is the horror of damnation. THE OLD WOMAN. Oh, this is all madness. This is worse than fire and the worm. DON JUAN. For you, perhaps, there are consolations. For instance: how old were you when you changed from time to eternity? THE OLD WOMAN. Do not ask me how old I was as if I were a thing of the past. I am 77. DON JUAN. A ripe age, Senora. But in hell old age is not tolerated. It is too real. Here we worship Love and Beauty. Our souls being entirely damned, we cultivate our hearts. As a lady of 77, you would not have a single acquaintance in hell. THE OLD WOMAN. How can I help my age, man?