Zina. My God, what shall I do?
Brightly. Nothing. (Zina drops on her knees.)
Zina. Oh, what will you ask of me, and I will never cause you trouble again?
Brightly. I make no conditions when I control!
Zina. If I have ever loved anything, it has been lost to me. (Sinking down, sobbing.)
Brightly. Of what use are you to me now? I have taken insult after insult from him, until I have reached the last. If this fails, I will kill him!
Zina. (Springing up.) Then I will tell him the infamous traitor that you are.
Brightly. (Dashing forward to strike her.) You will?
Zina. (Defending with stiletto.) Stand off, you cowardly cur!
Brightly. (Springing back and drawing bowie knife.) Ah ha, revolt?