PERCINET. Thoroughly worn-out.
SYLVETTE. Yes, but you have at least found romance and poetry?
PERCINET. No—I was seeking afar what was here all the time.
Don't make fun of me: I adore you!
SYLVETTE. Even after our disillusion?
PERCINET. What difference does that make?
SYLVETTE. But our fathers played an abominable trick on us.
PERCINET. What of it? What I feel in my heart is real.
SYLVETTE. They pretended to hate each other.
PERCINET. Did we pretend that we loved?
SYLVETTE. The wall was a punch-and-judy theater—you said so yourself.