Séverine. It does not look that way. Tell me, little one, how many love-affairs have you had so far?
Marquis (to François). It is really wonderful how well my wife the Marquise knows how to adapt herself to every situation.
Rollin. Yes, it is wonderful.
Michette. Have you counted yours?
Séverine. When I was still as young as you ... of course ...
Albin (to Rollin). Tell me, M. Rollin, is the Marquise joking, or is she really like—? I positively can't make it out.
Rollin. Reality ... playing ... do you know the difference so exactly. Chevalier?
Albin. At any rate ...
Rollin. I don't. And what I find so peculiar here is that all apparent distinctions, so to speak, are taken away. Reality passes into play—play into reality. Just look now at the Marquise. How she gossips with those creatures as though she were one of them. At the same time she is—
Albin. Something quite different.