OCT. (stepping between them). Ah! Léandre.
LEA. No, Octave, do not keep me back.
SCA. (to LÉANDRE). Eh! Sir.
OCT. (keeping back LÉANDRE). For mercy's sake!
LEA. (trying to strike). Leave me to wreak my anger upon him.
OCT. In the name of our friendship, Léandre, do not strike him.
SCA. What have I done to you, Sir?
LEA. What you have done, you scoundrel!
OCT. (still keeping back LÉANDRE). Gently, gently.
LEA. No, Octave, I will have him confess here on the spot the perfidy of which he is guilty. Yes, scoundrel, I know the trick you have played me; I have just been told of it. You did not think the secret would be revealed to me, did you? But I will have you confess it with your own lips, or I will run you through and through with my sword.