Broke the delicious indolence—all broken!
Otti. To me—not of me! Ungrateful, perjured cheat!
A coward too: but ingrate's worse than all!
Beggar—my slave—a fawning, cringing lie!
Leave me! Betray me! I can see your drift!
A lie that walks and eats and drinks!
Seb. My God!
Those morbid olive faultless shoulder-blades—
I should have known there was no blood beneath!
Otti. You hate me then? You hate me then?