Madame Cogé. When was that? When was that?
Lamblin. For God's sake, don't scream so! Not more than two weeks ago.
Madame Cogé. You didn't say what was the matter with you, that's all.
Lamblin. I complained enough, Heaven knows. [A pause.]
Madame Cogé. Then you won't come?
Lamblin. No.
Madame Cogé [resolutely]. Very well, then, farewell.
Lamblin. Now, you mustn't get angry. [He puts his arm round her waist]. You know I can't do without you. You are always my dear little Mathilde, my darling little girl. Aren't you? Do you remember yesterday, eh? You know I love you—deeply?
Madame Cogé. On Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and from time to time on Sundays. Thanks! [She starts to go.]
Lamblin. Mathilde!