He
You're blue, Mancini. [Stretches.] Well, at my age, a hundred slaps—it seems pretty hard. So you're blue. How are things getting on with your girl?
Mancini
Tss! Bad! Complications—parents—[shudders] Agh—
He
Prison!
Mancini
[Laughing]: Prison! Mustn't I uphold the glory of my name now, eh? He, I'm joking—but there is Hell in my heart. You're the only one who understands me. But tell me how to explain this passion? It will turn my hair grey, it'll bring me to prison, to the grave. I am a tragic man. He—[Wipes his eyes with a dirty handkerchief.] Why don't I like things which are not forbidden? Why, at all moments, even at the very moment of ecstasy, must I be reminded of some law—it is stupid. He, I am becoming an anarchist. Good God!—Count Mancini, an anarchist. That's the only thing I've missed.
He
Isn't there a way of settling it somehow?