Ernest. Through your contempt.
Teodora. I feel none.
Ernest. You have expressed it
Teodora. It was a lie.
Ernest. No; not entirely. So that our sufferings are not equal. In this implacable strife he suffers as those on earth suffer, I as those in hell.
Teodora. Spare me, Ernest—my head is on fire.
Ernest. And my heart aches.
Teodora. That will do, Ernest. I entreat you to pity me.
Ernest. That was all I asked of you.
Teodora. Mercy.