Valsin. No? [Persuasively.] Citizeness, pray assert that I did not encounter you last week on your journey from Paris—
Anne [hastily]. It is true I have been to Paris on business; you may have seen me—I do not know. Is it a crime to return from Paris?
Valsin [in a tone of mock encouragement]. It will amuse me to hear you declare that I did not see you traveling in company with Louis Valny-Cherault. Come! Say it.
Anne [stepping back defensively, closer to the inner door]. I am alone, I tell you! I do not know what you mean. If you saw me speaking with people in the diligence, or at some posting-house, they were only traveling acquaintances. I did not know them. I am a widow—
Valsin. My condolences. Poor, of course?
Anne. Yes.
Valsin. And lonely, of course? [Apologetically.] Loneliness is in the formula: I suggest it for fear you might forget.
Anne [doggedly]. I am alone.
Valsin. Quite right.
Anne [confusedly]. I am a widow, I tell you—a widow, living here quietly with—