Suzanne. Nobody, everybody. People look at you and whisper and stop talking when you come into the room and kiss you, and call you poor little thing!—If you think children don’t notice those things!
Duchess. (Wiping her eyes) Now, dear, dear!
Suzanne. And it was just the same at the convent! I knew I wasn’t like the other girls. Oh, I could see that. They always talked to me about my father and my mother, and why? Because I didn’t have any! And once, during recess, I was playing with a girl!—I don’t remember what I’d done to her—She was furious—and all of a sudden she called me “Miss Foundling!” She didn’t know what it meant, neither did I! Her mother had used the word in speaking about me. She told me afterward, after we had made up.—Oh, I was so unhappy! (Sobbing) We looked the word up in the dictionary, but we didn’t find anything—or we didn’t understand—(Angrily) What did they mean? What have I done that makes me any different from anybody else? That everything I do is bad? Is it my fault?
Duchess. (Kissing her) No, my child, no my dear!
Mme. de Céran. I am sorry——
Suzanne. (Sobbing) Well, then, why does everybody blame me if it isn’t my fault? Here I seem to be in the way! I know I don’t want to stay any longer. I am going! Nobody loves me!
Roger. (Deeply moved) Why do you say that, Suzanne? It’s not so. Everybody here—I——
Suzanne. (Angrily as she rises) You!
Roger. Yes, I? And I swear——
Suzanne. You!—Go away from me! I hate you and I never want to see you again! Never! Do you hear! (She goes toward the door leading into the garden)