Host. Yes, do tell us, Henri—where is your wife? Where have you left her?
Henri. Oh, I have no qualms about her. She will not die of it. Whether it is this man or that man, what do the women care? There are still a thousand other handsome men running about Paris—whether it is this man or that man—
Balthasar. May it fare thus with all who take our wives from us.
Scaevola. All who take from us what belongs to us.
Commissaire (to Host). These are seditious speeches.
Albin. It is dreadful ... the people mean it seriously.
Scaevola. Down with the usurers of France! We would fain wager that the fellow whom he caught with his wife was another again of those accursed hounds who rob us of our bread as well.
Albin. I propose we go.
Séverine. Henri!—Henri!
Marquis. But, Marquise—