My dear, I am not asking for anything. I do not even wish to answer the very aggressive speech you have done me the honor to make. I only wish to give you advice--the advice of a friend--upon a situation that may possibly endanger your reputation. You are beautiful, always in the public eye, and much envied. Scandal could have easy birth.
Pardon me. If we are to speak of scandal, I must have leave to balance my account with you.
Come, do not let us joke over this thing. I speak to you as a friend--seriously, as a friend. As to what you have said about me, it is all extremely exaggerated.
Not at all. You have never tried to conceal, in fact, you have actually proclaimed to all the world your infidelities--a fact which gives me the right to go and do likewise, and, my friend, believe what I say--
Let me finish. According to you, I am beautiful, I am young, and yet condemned by my husband to live, and watch him live, as if I were a widow. Look at me [_rises_], is it just to consign me to play the rôle of an abandoned Ariadne, while my husband runs from this woman to that woman, and this girl to that girl? [_Grows excited_.] A faithful wife! I cry you mercy! Is a faithful wife compelled to sacrifice all her life, all her happiness, all her affections, everything, in fact, every privilege, every expectation, every claim, which is hers by birth and for which she has been born? Look at me! Am I made for a nunnery? The fact that I married you should answer that question. And yet, you, _you_, who took me from my father's house, neglect me to run after others. And what others? I am not in their circle, neither am I one of those who would share your life with others. So much the worse for you--for I am free, and you have no right to give me advice since I _am_ free.
My dear girl, be calm. You misunderstand me completely. I have never suspected you. Indeed, I have the most profound esteem and friendship for you--a loving friendship which grows greater every day. I have no wish to comment upon that past with which you reproach me so cruelly. Perhaps I am a little too--too--what shall I say?
Oh! Say that you belong to the period of the Regency. I know that method of excusing all male weaknesses and follies. Oh! yes; that eighteenth century, that _dainty_ century, so full of _elegance_, so full of delicious _fantasies_ and adorable _whims_! Alas! my dear, that is ancient history.