Well, I would rather commit such a folly and ruin myself--if that be ruin--than expose myself to the infamous struggle with which each day I am threatened.
Madeline, hear me. You are in a terrible situation, but for God's sake do not throw yourself into one that is irretrievable. Be calm, I implore you.
I do not know; we shall see. But I do not, I cannot, advise you to venture on a scandal which will put you outside the pale of society.
Well, yes, there is another law, an unwritten law which permits one to have lovers, even though it be shameful, because [_sarcastically_] it does not outrage society.
That is not the question. The thing is to avoid taking up a wrong position in your quarrel with your husband. Have you decided to leave him?
Well, now, be cautious; be careful and cunning; guard your reputation and your name. Make neither commotion nor scandal, and await your opportunity.
And must I continue to be very charming when he returns to me, and be ready for all his fancies?
Oh, Madeline, I speak to you in the truest friendship.
Yea, as a friend who loves you far too dearly to advise you to commit any folly.
And loves me just enough to advise me to be complaisant to a man I despise.
I! Never, never. My most ardent desire is to be with you forever. Get a divorce, and then if you still love me, let us wed.
Oh, yes, yes--two years from now. Certainly, you _are_ a patient lover!
But supposing I were to carry you off, he would take you back to-morrow; would shut you up in his house, and would never get a divorce lest you should become my wife.
Well, do you mean to say I could fly nowhere but to your house, that I could not hide myself in such fashion that he would never find me?
Yes, you could hide yourself, but it would be necessary for you to live abroad under another name, or buried in the country, till death. That is the curse of our love. In three months you would hate me. I never will let you commit such a folly.
I thought you loved me enough to fly with me, but it seems that I am mistaken. Adieu!
MME. DE SALLUS Jacques, take me, or leave me--answer!
Never! Adieu! [_Rises and goes to the door_.]
Once more I implore you, Madeline, listen to me.
Oh, no, no; adieu! [De Randol _takes her by the arms; she frees herself angrily_.] Unhand me! Let me go, or I shall call for help!