immovable, so that it upsets the carriage.

MAURICE. The triumphal chariot!--The ass is driven to death, but
the rock remains. Curse it! [Pause.]

HENRIETTE. There is nothing to do.

MAURICE. Yes, we must get married, and then our child will make us
forget the other one.

HENRIETTE. This will kill this!

MAURICE. Kill! What kind of word is that?

HENRIETTE. [Changing tone] Your child will kill our love.

MAURICE. No, girl, our love will kill whatever stands in its way,
but it will not be killed.

HENRIETTE. [Opens a deck of cards lying on the mantlepiece] Look
at it! Five-spot of diamonds--the scaffold! Can it be possible
that our fates are determined in advance? That our thoughts are
guided as if through pipes to the spot for which they are bound,
without chance for us to stop them? But I don't want it, I don't
want it!--Do you realise that I must go to the scaffold if my
crime should be discovered?

MAURICE. Tell me about your crime. Now is the time for it.

HENRIETTE. No, I should regret it afterward, and you would despise
me--no, no, no!--Have you ever heard that a person could be hated
to death? Well, my father incurred the hatred of my mother and my
sisters, and he melted away like wax before a fire. Ugh! Let us
talk of something else. And, above all, let us get away. The air
is poisoned here. To-morrow your laurels will be withered, the
triumph will be forgotten, and in a week another triumphant hero
will hold the public attention. Away from here, to work for new
victories! But first of all, Maurice, you must embrace your child
and provide for its immediate future. You don't have to see the
mother at all.

MAURICE. Thank you! Your good heart does you honour, and I love
you doubly when you show the kindness you generally hide.

HENRIETTE. And then you go to the Cremerie and say good-by to the
old lady and your friends. Leave no unsettled business behind to
make your mind heavy on our trip.

MAURICE. I'll clear up everything, and to-night we meet at the
railroad station.

HENRIETTE. Agreed! And then: away from here--away toward the sea
and the sun!

(Curtain.)

ACT III

FIRST SCENE

(In the Cremerie. The gas is lit. MME. CATHERINE is seated at the
counter, ADOLPHE at a table.)

MME. CATHERINE. Such is life, Monseiur Adolphe. But you young ones
are always demanding too much, and then you come here and blubber
over it afterward.

ADOLPHE. No, it isn't that. I reproach nobody, and I am