.. He has
wrought a fearful deed somewhere.

FRANCOIS. He is somewhat theatrical. It looks as though he were going
to get ready for a monologue.

HOST. Henri, Henri, where do you come from?

HENRI. I have murdered.

ROLLIN. What did I say?

SCAEVOLA. Whom?

HENRI. The lover of my wife.

[PROSPER looks at him; at this moment he obviously has the
feeling that it might be true.]

HENRI (looks up). Well, yes, I've done it. What are you looking at me
like that for? That's how the matter stands. Is it, then, so wonderful
after all? You all know what kind of a creature my wife is; it was
bound to end like that.

HOST. And she--where is she?

FRANCOIS. See, the host takes it seriously. You notice how realistic
that makes the thing.

[Noise outside--not too loud.]

JULES. What noise is that outside?

MARQUIS. Do you hear, Severine?

ROLLIN. It sounds as though troops were marching by.

FRANCOIS. Oh, no; it is our dear people of Paris. Just listen how they
bawl. (Uneasiness in the cellar; it grows quiet outside.) Go on,
Henri--go on.

HOST. Yes, do tell us, Henri--where is your wife? Where have you left
her?

HENRI. Oh, I have no qualms about her. She will not die of it. Whether
it is this man or that man, what do the women care? There are still a
thousand other handsome men running about Paris--whether it is this man
or that man--

BALTHASAR. May it fare thus with all who take our wives from us.

SCAEVOLA. All who take from us what belongs to us.

COMMISSAIRE (to HOST). These are seditious speeches.

ALBIN. It is dreadful ... the people mean it seriously.

SCAEVOLA. Down with the usurers of France! We would fain wager that the
fellow whom he caught with his wife was another again of those accursed
hounds who rob us of our bread as well.

ALBIN. I propose we go.

SEVERINE. Henri!--Henri!

MARQUIS. But, Marquise--

SEVERINE. Please, dear Marquis, ask the man how he caught his wife--or
I will ask him myself.

MARQUIS (after resisting). Tell us, Henri, how did you manage to
catch the pair?

HENRI (who has been for a long while sunk in reverie). Know you my
wife, then? She is the fairest and vilest creature under the sun. And I
loved her! We have known one another for seven years--but it is only
yesterday that she became my wife. In those seven years there was not
one day, nay, not one day, in which she did not lie to me, for
everything about