Robert. You mean she is so stricken she can't talk with me? She won't see me?
Nanette. She will see you. But for your own peace of mind I advise you to go away. I will tell her that you came. That will be the best way.
Robert. A change, you say? You mean she has altered so....
Nanette. Yes. The truth is, it is Madame's mind.
Robert. Her mind! No, no, don't tell me that. That is the worst of all. Do you mean that she is not clear in her mind? She wouldn't know me? She wouldn't be able to remember? Nanette, I can't believe it. I can't believe that this great and beautiful woman could give in like that. Everywhere you see the small ones breaking down. But the great spirits like hers—oh they must keep up. What else is there left for us if they give up, too?
Nanette. If you could hear her talk, Monsieur Robert. The things she says.... Sometimes I have to run away and lock my door. I am afraid of her.
Robert. I cannot stay now, Nanette. I couldn't bear it. It was hard enough for me before. What can I say to her, Nanette, when my own grief finds no comfort? Maurice was like my own son. He was the fruit of my own soul. Into him went all the spiritual love I had for Madame, the love which for fourteen years....
Nanette. Monsieur Robert!
Robert. Oh, Nanette, forget your piety for once and let me speak my heart out.
Nanette [with her strange, bitter coldness]. No, Monsieur Robert, I can never forget what you call my—piety.