ever than look them in the face with the reflection that they beheld mine
stripped of that purity they had a right to expect in me."

With these words she became silent, and the colour that overspread her
face showed plainly the pain and shame she was suffering at heart. In
theirs the listeners felt as much pity as wonder at her misfortunes; but
as the curate was just about to offer her some consolation and advice
Cardenio forestalled him, saying, "So then, senora, you are the fair
Dorothea, the only daughter of the rich Clenardo?" Dorothea was
astonished at hearing her father's name, and at the miserable appearance
of him who mentioned it, for it has been already said how wretchedly clad
Cardenio was; so she said to him:

"And who may you be, brother, who seem to know my father's name so well?
For so far, if I remember rightly, I have not mentioned it in the whole
story of my misfortunes."

"I am that unhappy being, senora," replied Cardenio, "whom, as you have
said, Luscinda declared to be her husband; I am the unfortunate Cardenio,
whom the wrong-doing of him who has brought you to your present condition
has reduced to the state you see me in, bare, ragged, bereft of all human
comfort, and what is worse, of reason, for I only possess it when Heaven
is pleased for some short space to restore it to me. I, Dorothea, am he
who witnessed the wrong done by Don Fernando, and waited to hear the
'Yes' uttered by which Luscinda owned herself his betrothed: I am he who
had not courage enough to see how her fainting fit ended, or what came of
the paper that was found in her bosom, because my heart had not the
fortitude to endure so many strokes of ill-fortune at once; and so losing
patience I quitted the house, and leaving a letter with my host, which I
entreated him to place in Luscinda's hands, I betook myself to these