[Softly groaning.] Oh, why did you say that?
Marie.
Because---- No, no--how could he? That was wicked in me, wasn't it? How could he think of another, when he looks at you?
Gertrude.
No, no, Marie, you are right! I told him so myself!
Marie.
[Slowly and marked.] And what did he say?
Gertrude.
He?--He said nothing! And then--he cried----