CANDIDA (severely). Then James has just told me a falsehood. Is that what you mean?
MARCHBANKS. No, no: I—I— (blurting out the explanation desperately) —it was David's wife. And it wasn't at home: it was when she saw him dancing before all the people.
MORELL (taking the cue with a debater's adroitness). Dancing before all the people, Candida; and thinking he was moving their hearts by his mission when they were only suffering from—Prossy's complaint. (She is about to protest: he raises his hand to silence her, exclaiming) Don't try to look indignant, Candida:—
CANDIDA (interjecting). Try!
MORELL (continuing). Eugene was right. As you told me a few hours after, he is always right. He said nothing that you did not say far better yourself. He is the poet, who sees everything; and I am the poor parson, who understands nothing.
CANDIDA (remorsefully). Do you mind what is said by a foolish boy, because I said something like it again in jest?
MORELL. That foolish boy can speak with the inspiration of a child and the cunning of a serpent. He has claimed that you belong to him and not to me; and, rightly or wrongly, I have come to fear that it may be true. I will not go about tortured with doubts and suspicions. I will not live with you and keep a secret from you. I will not suffer the intolerable degradation of jealousy. We have agreed—he and I—that you shall choose between us now. I await your decision.
CANDIDA (slowly recoiling a step, her heart hardened by his rhetoric in spite of the sincere feeling behind it). Oh! I am to choose, am I? I suppose it is quite settled that I must belong to one or the other.
MORELL (firmly). Quite. You must choose definitely.
MARCHBANKS (anxiously). Morell: you don't understand. She means that she belongs to herself.