Nérisse. What kind of assurance do you want me to give you? Do you believe in nothing? Is it quite impossible for you to feel frankly and naturally, and to say "I have confidence in you, and I accept your friendship"—a friendship offered to you perfectly honestly and loyally? It really drives one to despair.
Thérèse [without enthusiasm] Well, yes. I say it.
She puts her hands into the hands Monsieur Nérisse holds out to her.
Nérisse. Thank you. [A silence. Then he says in a low voice] Oh, Thérèse, I love you, how I love you!
Thérèse [snatching her hands away] Oh, this is abominable. You set a trap for me, and my vanity made me fall into it.
Nérisse. I implore you to let me tell you about myself. I'm so miserable and lonely when you're away.
Thérèse [trying to speak reasonably] I know quite well what you want to say to me, and it all amounts to this: you love me. It's quite clear, and I answer you just as clearly: I do not love you.
Nérisse. I'm so unhappy!
Thérèse. If it's true that you're unhappy because I don't love you, that is a misfortune for you; a misfortune for which I am not in any way responsible, because you certainly cannot accuse me of having encouraged you.
Nérisse. I don't ask you to love me—yet. I ask you to allow me to try and win your love.