Etchepare. Till to-morrow then.
The Mother. To-morrow. [She goes out without glancing at Yanetta]
Yanetta [takes a few steps towards her husband, falls on her knees, and clasps her hands. In a low voice] Forgive me!
Etchepare. Never!
Yanetta. Don't say never!
Etchepare. Was the judge lying?
Yanetta. No—he wasn't lying.
Etchepare. You wretched thing!
Yanetta. Yes, I am a wretched thing! Forgive me!
Etchepare. Kill you rather! I could kill you!