CAMILLE. But so strong a man—I wish I was a strong man, not a weak woman.
BUILDER. [Regarding her with reluctant admiration] Why, what's the matter with you?
CAMILLE. Will Monsieur have another glass of brandy before I take it?
BUILDER. No! Yes—I will.
She pours it out, and he drinks it, hands her the glass and sits down suddenly in an armchair. CAMILLE puts the glass on a tray, and looks for a box of matches from the mantelshelf.
CAMILLE. A light, Monsieur?
BUILDER. Please.
CAMILLE. [She trips over his feet and sinks on to his knee] Oh! Monsieur!
BUILDER flames up and catches her in his arms
Oh! Monsieur—