DIDIER.
What are you doing with such books?
How came they here?
MARION. (inaudibly, and looking down).
They came by chance.
DIDIER.
Do you—
You who have eyes so pure, a brow so chaste—
Do you know what she is—this woman? Well,
She's beautiful in body, and deformed
In soul! A Phryne, selling everywhere,
To every man, her love, which is an insult,
An infamy!
MARION (her head in her hands).
My God!
[A noise of footsteps, a clashing of swords outside, and cries.
VOICE IN THE STREET.