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      MME. DE SALLUS

      Does he annoy you?

      JACQUES DE RANDOL By heaven—

      MME. DE SALLUS

      Hush! [Archly.] My husband has fallen in love with me again.

      JACQUES DE RANDOL

      Is it possible?

      MME. DE SALLUS [indignantly]

      What do you mean by such an insolent question, and why should it not be possible?

      JACQUES DE RANDOL

      A man falls in love with his wife before he marries her, but after marriage he never commits the same mistake.

      MME. DE SALLUS

      But perhaps he has never really been in love with me until now.

      JACQUES DE RANDOL

      It is absolutely impossible that he could have lived with you—even in his curt, cavalier fashion—without loving you.

      MME. DE SALLUS [indifferently]

      It is of little importance. He has either loved me in the past, or is now beginning to love me.

      JACQUES DE RANDOL

      Truly, I do not understand you. Tell me all about it.

      MME. DE SALLUS

      But I have nothing to tell. He declares his love for me, takes me in his arms, and threatens me with his conjugal rights. This upsets me, torments me, and annoys me.

      JACQUES DE RANDOL

      Madeline you torture me.

      MME. DE SALLUS [quickly]

      And what about me? Do you think that I do not suffer? I know that I am not exactly a faithful woman since I received your addresses, but I have, and shall retain, a single heart. It is either you or he. It will never be you and he. For me that would be infamy—the greatest infamy of a guilty woman, the sharing of her heart—a thing that debases her. One may fall, perhaps, because there are ditches along the wayside and it is not always easy to follow the right path. But if one falls, that is no reason to throw oneself in the abyss.

      JACQUES DE RANDOL [takes her in his arms and kisses her]

      I simply adore you!

      MME. DE SALLUS [melts]

      And I, too, love you dearly, Jacques, and that is the reason why I fear.

      JACQUES DE RANDOL

      But, tell me, Madeline how long has it been since your husband reformed?

      MME. DE SALLUS

      Possibly fifteen days or three weeks.

      JACQUES DE RANDOL

      Without relapse?

      MME. DE SALLUS

      Without relapse.

      JACQUES DE RANDOL

      I will explain the mystery. The fact of the matter is this, your husband has simply become a widower.

      MME. DE SALLUS

      What do you say?

      JACQUES DE RANDOL

      I mean that your husband is unattached just now, and seeks to spend his leisure time with his wife.

      MME. DE SALLUS

      But I tell you that he is in love with me.

      JACQUES DE RANDOL

      Yes—yes—and no. He is in love with you—and also with another. Tell me, his temper is usually bad, isn't it?

      MME. DE SALLUS

      Execrable!

      JACQUES DE RANDOL

      Well, then, here is a man in love with you who shows his wonderful return of tenderness by moods that are simply unsupportable—for they are unsupportable, aren't they?

      MME. DE SALLUS

      Absolutely.

      JACQUES DE RANDOL

      If he wooed you with tenderness you would not feel fear. You would say to yourself, “My turn has come at last,” and then he would inspire you with a little pity for him, for a woman has always a sneaking sort of compassion for the man who loves her, even though that man be her husband.

      MME. DE SALLUS

      Perhaps that is true.

      JACQUES DE RANDOL

      Is he nervous, preoccupied?

      MME. DE SALLUS

      Yes.

      JACQUES DE RANDOL

      And he is abrupt with you, not to say brutal? He demands his right without even praying for it?

      MME. DE SALLUS

      True.

      JACQUES DE RANDOL

      My darling, for the moment you are simply a substitute.

      MME. DE SALLUS

      Oh! no, no!

      JACQUES DE RANDOL

      My dearest girl, your husband's latest mistress was Madame de Bardane, whom he left very abruptly about two months ago to run after the Santelli.

      MME. DE SALLUS

      What, the singer?

      JACQUES DE RANDOL

      Yes, a capricious, saucy, cunning, venal little woman. A woman not at all uncommon upon the stage, or in the world either, for that matter.

      MME. DE SALLUS

      Then that is why he haunts the Opéra.

      JACQUES DE RANDOL [laughs]

      Without a doubt.

      MME. DE SALLUS [dreamily]

      No, no, you are deceiving yourself.

      JACQUES DE RANDOL [emphatically]

      The Santelli resists him and repulses him; then, burdened with a heart full of longing that has no outlet, he deigns to offer you a portion.

      MME. DE SALLUS

      My dear, you are dreaming. If he were in love with the Santelli, he would not tell me that he loves me. If he were so entirely preoccupied with this creature, he would not woo me. If he coveted her, he would not desire me at the same time.

      JACQUES DE RANDOL

      How little you understand certain kinds of men! Men like your husband, once inoculated with the poison of love—which in them is nothing but brutal desire—men like him, I say, when a woman they desire escapes or resists them, become raging beasts. They behave like madmen, like men possessed, with arms outstretched and lips wide open. They must love some one, no matter whom just as a mad dog with open jaws bites anything and everybody. The Santelli has unchained this raging brute, and you find yourself face to face with his dripping jaws. Take care! You call that love! It is nothing but animal passion.

      MME. DE SALLUS [sarcastically]

      Really, you are very unfair to him. I am afraid jealousy is blinding you.

      JACQUES DE RANDOL

      Oh, no, I am not deceiving myself, you may be sure.

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