Mario. I don't know. I do not remember....
Paolo. There you are—there—there—I knew it! And you knew that Anna went away from here to avoid him. And I went with her all unconscious. You saw the husband take a train and run away before the other could arrive!
Mario. And if it is true. It does not tell you more or less than the letters did.
Paolo. No, a little more. Everything tells a little more. One grain of sand piles up upon another, then another until it makes the mill-stone which crushes you. It tells a little more. It is one thing to keep away and another to run away. One can keep away a trouble without begging it to keep its distance. But one runs away for fear.
Mario. Uh-h!
Paolo. And look here—look—look, let us examine the case. Let us see. It is improbable that he wrote her he was coming. It is sure he did not or she would have responded: "You write me that you are coming.... I love my husband—I beg you to remain away."
Mario. Oh!
Paolo. So she, foreseeing his intentions, felt that he would come ... by that divination....
Mario. You are the first husband to get angry because a wife did her duty.
Paolo. Uhm! Duty—the ugly word!