Yanetta. Yes, yes! But forgive me!
Etchepare. You're just a loose woman—a loose woman from Paris, with no honor, no shame, no honesty even!
Yanetta. Yes! Insult me—strike me!
Etchepare. For ten years you have been lying to me!
Yanetta. Oh, how I wished I could have told you everything! Oh, how many times I began that dreadful confession! I never had courage enough. I was always afraid of your anger, Pierre, and of the pain I should cause you—I saw you were so happy!
Etchepare. You came from up there, fresh from your vice, fresh from prison, and you chose me to be your gull.
Yanetta. My God, to think he believes that!
Etchepare. You brought me the leavings of a swindler—the leavings of a swindler—and you stole, in my house, the place of an honest woman! Your lies have brought the curse of God on my family and it's you who are the cause of everything. The misfortune that's just befallen us, it's you who are the cause of it, I tell you! You're a pest, accursed, damned! Don't say another word to me! Don't speak to me!
Yanetta. Have you no pity, Pierre? Do you suppose I'm not suffering?
Etchepare. If you are suffering you've deserved it! You haven't suffered enough yet. But what had I ever done to you that you should choose me for your victim? What did I ever do that I should have to bear what I'm suffering? You've made me a coward—you've lowered me almost to your own level—I ought to have been able to put you out of my mind and my heart already! And I can't! And I'm suffering torture, terrible torture—for I'm suffering through the love I once had for you. You—you were everything to me for ten years—my whole life. You've been everything, everything! And now the one hope left me is that I may forget you!