Diane [astounded]. Madame!
Madame le Bargy. You have been suffering a great deal, Diane.
Diane [bursting into wild weeping]. Oh, Madame, how good you are, how kind you are! [Grasping Madame's arms, she trembles and sobs.] Oh, how can I ever tell you? Thank you, thank you! [She jumps up and paces about the room.] What am I going to do with myself? How can I go on? I simply can't stand it. If I had only died with Maurice! If I could only have died in his place! Oh, the cruelty of it! Why did they have to pick out my lover? Surely there are thousands of others. Why did it have to be just mine? Mine—when I needed him so! He might have been spared a little longer, to give me time to get used to it. That would have been better. But now! Just as he was beginning to be of service, too. Why he hadn't been there a year yet. Not even a year! [Beating her hips violently.] I could tear myself to pieces. I hate myself for going on living. I detest myself for being alive when he is dead.
Madame le Bargy [who has watched Diane with infinite pity—softly]. Diane, do you think that I loved my son?
Diane [in surprise]. Why, yes, Madame, I believe that you loved Maurice.
Madame le Bargy. You think that my love was not as great as yours?
Diane. No, I don't think so. You had had your life. Maurice and I were only beginning ours.
Madame le Bargy. Which do you think is the greater love, Diane, the love which endures for the moment, or the love which endures for all time?
Diane [puzzled]. For all time...?
Madame le Bargy. For all time.