The Mule.
[Laying back its ears and showing its teeth.] I'll see you damned first!
[General sensation.
Mrs. Futvoye.
[Going towards The Mule in distress.] Oh! he wouldn't be so obstinate if he wasn't a mule!
Fakrash.
[To The Mule.] Thou art trifling with my safety and thine own! Reveal unto me the spot in which thou hast hidden the stopper and delay not—for it will be no difficult undertaking to transform these women of thine into mules like thyself.
[Horror of Mrs. Futvoye and Sylvia, and despair and rage of Horace, who rises and rushes towards Fakrash.
The Mule.