Widow. Claude, you have not deceived her? Ah, shame upon you! I thought that, before you went to the altar, she was to have known all.
Pauline. All! what! My blood freezes in my veins!
Widow. Poor lady—dare I tell her, Claude? Know you not, then, madam, that this young man is of poor though honest parents? Know you not that you are wedded to my son, Claude Melnotte?
Pauline. Your son! hold—hold! do not speak to me. [Approaches Melnotte.] Is this a jest? is it? I know it is, only speak—one word—one look—one smile. I cannot believe—I who loved thee so—I cannot believe that thou art such a—no, I will not wrong thee by a harsh word! Speak.
Mel. Leave us. [To Widow.] Have pity on her, on me; leave us!
Widow. Oh, Claude, that I should live to see thee bowed by shame! thee of whom I was so proud!
[Exit.
Pauline. Her son—her son!
Mel.
Now, lady, hear me.