The little theater represents an Andalusian village square. On the right, the house of Señora Rosita. There should be an enormous palm tree and a bench. Cocoliche appears on the left, hovering, with a guitar in his hands and wrapped in a dark green cape with black agremanes. He is dressed in the popular costume of the beginning of the 19th century, and he is wearing his little hat from Calañas graciously.
COCOLICHE. Rosita does not go out. She is afraid of the moon. The moon is terrible for a lover of occultism. (Whistles.) The whistling played like a pebble of music on the glass on her balcony. Yesterday she put a ribbon in her hair. She said to me: A black ribbon in my hair is like snacking on fruit. Be sad if you see me; the black will then go down to my feet. Something is wrong with her.
(The little balcony full of pots is illuminated with a sweet light…)
Fort the vito, vito, vito,
For the vito I can die.
COCOLICHE. (Coming closer.) Why didn’t you go out?
ROSITA. (On the balcony very corny and very poetic.) Oh my little boy! The Moorish wind now turns all the weather vanes of Andalusia. In a hundred years they will turn the same way.
COCOLICHE. What does it mean?
ROSITA. May you look to the left and right of time, may your heart learn to be at ease.
COCOLICHE. I don’t get you.
ROSITA. What I am about to tell you carries the hard sting. That’s why I prepare you. (Pause, in which Rosita cries comically, almost choking.) I can’t marry you!
ROSITA. You are the pincushion of my eye! But I can’t marry you! (She cries.)
COCOLICHE. Did you become a Sisters of Adoration? Have I done something bad to you? Oh, oh, oh, oh! (She cries in an almost childish and comical way.)
ROSITA. You’ll find out. Now, goodbye.
COCOLICHE. (Shouting and stamping her foot on the floor.) No, no, no, no.
ROSITA. Goodbye, my father is calling me. (The balcony closes)