Thérèse. I'll never break my word.
René. What d'you want us to wait for? A change of opinion that'll probably never come. And our youth will go, we shall have spoilt our lives. You want to send me back to Paris all alone and unhappy, to spend long silent evenings thinking about you and suffering from not being with you, while you, here, will be suffering in the same way, in the same loneliness. And we love each other, and it absolutely depends only on ourselves whether we shall change our double unhappiness for a double joy. [Changing his tone] I can't stand it, Thérèse. I've loved you for two years, and all this last year I've toiled and slaved to win you. [Low and ardently] I want you.
Thérèse. Oh, hush, hush!
René. I want you. You're the one woman I've loved in my life. My love for you is my life. I can't give up my life. Listen: I have to be in Paris this evening; are you going to let me leave you broken-hearted?
Thérèse. Do you think that I'm not broken-hearted?
René. I shan't suffer any the less because I know that you're suffering too.
Thérèse. It doesn't depend upon us.
René. It depends entirely upon us. Look here, if people refuse to let us marry, our love for each other is strong enough to do without marriage. Thérèse, come with me!
Thérèse. Oh, René, René! What are you asking me to do?
René. Have you faith in me? Look at me. Do you think I'm sincere? Do you think I'm an honest man? Do you think that, if people refuse to let us go through a ridiculous ceremony together, our union will be any the less durable? Is it the ceremony that makes it real? Thérèse, come with me. Come this evening; let's go together; let's love each other. Oh, if you loved me as much as I love you, you wouldn't hesitate for a second.