—Ah! dear child, you do not know with what cares I am overwhelmed.
—They must indeed be very serious, sir, since they have made you forgetful of your duties, even to the care of your honour and of mine … for the moment is approaching when I shall no longer he able to hide the consequences of your….
—Of our fault, dear Suzanne, of both our faults. Do not overwhelm me alone, for it was your pretty face which made me mad. But is it really possible? Can it be true? what, you are….
—I have let you know it, sir, a long time ago, and you have not deigned to give any answer on that subject. I have read and read again your letters many times, seeking for a word which might console me, for a hope, for a light, but there was nothing. You have told me to wait; you have tried, like a coward, to gain time, you have reckoned on something unforeseen occurring, which might settle the question without your aid … and you would have washed your hands of it in peace in your broad conscience. But the time has gone on, the unexpected has not come, and now here I am, and I come to ask you: What do you intend to do with me?
—In truth, dear Suzanne, I had not believed … Ah, you are more beautiful than ever … No, I had not believed that the case was so desperate.
—You have not believed. No doubt, amidst your life of lies, surrounded by hypocrites and criminals, you have included me charitably in the number, and supposed that I lied.
—Suzanne, dear Suzanne, do not be offended … I believed that you wished to terrify me … Ah, how lovely you are like this … Ah, it is a terrible misfortune. We must guard against it. And your father, does he suspect?
—Not yet, sir, but the moment is approaching when I shall no longer be able to hide the truth.
—It is true then. What is to be done? What is to be done?
—Stop; you would make me laugh, if I did not pity you. I am come to ask you, for the last time, if I ought to count upon you.