DON JUAN. You forget that you have left your age behind you in the realm of time. You are no more 77 than you are 7 or 17 or 27. THE OLD WOMAN. Nonsense! DON JUAN. Consider, Senora: was not this true even when you lived on earth? When you were 70, were you really older underneath your wrinkles and your grey hairs than when you were 30? THE OLD WOMAN. No, younger: at 30 I was a fool. But of what use is it to feel younger and look older? DON JUAN. You see, Senora, the look was only an illusion. Your wrinkles lied, just as the plump smooth skin of many a stupid girl of 17, with heavy spirits and decrepit ideas, lies about her age? Well, here we have no bodies: we see each other as bodies only because we learnt to think about one another under that aspect when we were alive; and we still think in that way, knowing no other. But we can appear to one another at what age we choose. You have but to will any of your old looks back, and back they will come. THE OLD WOMAN. It cannot be true. DON JUAN. Try. THE OLD WOMAN. Seventeen! DON JUAN. Stop. Before you decide, I had better tell you that these things are a matter of fashion. Occasionally we have a rage for 17; but it does not last long. Just at present the fashionable age is 40--or say 37; but there are signs of a change. If you were at all good-looking at 27, I should suggest your trying that, and setting a new fashion. THE OLD WOMAN. I do not believe a word you are saying. However, 27 be it. [Whisk! the old woman becomes a young one, and so handsome that in the radiance into which her dull yellow halo has suddenly lightened one might almost mistake her for Ann Whitefield]. DON JUAN. Dona Ana de Ulloa! ANA. What? You know me! DON JUAN. And you forget me! ANA. I cannot see your face. [He raises his hat]. Don Juan Tenorio! Monster! You who slew my father! even here you pursue me. DON JUAN. I protest I do not pursue you. Allow me to withdraw [going]. ANA. [seizing his arm] You shall not leave me alone in this dreadful place. DON JUAN. Provided my staying be not interpreted as pursuit. ANA. [releasing him] You may well wonder how I can endure your presence. My dear, dear father! DON JUAN. Would you like to see him? ANA. My father HERE!!! DON JUAN. No: he is in heaven. ANA. I knew it. My noble father! He is looking down on us now. What must he feel to see his daughter in this place, and in conversation with his murderer! DON JUAN. By the way, if we should meet him-- ANA. How can we meet him? He is in heaven. DON JUAN. He condescends to look in upon us here from time to time. Heaven bores him. So let me warn you that if you meet him he will be mortally offended if you speak of me as his murderer! He maintains that he was a much better swordsman than I, and that if his foot had not slipped he would have killed me. No doubt he is right: I was not a good fencer. I never dispute the point; so we are excellent friends.