NAPOLEON (his breath taken away by the coolness of the proposal).
A fair di-- (He gasps.) It seems to me, madame, that you have
come to regard my letters as your own property, of which I am
trying to rob you.
LADY (earnestly). No: on my honor I ask for no letter of yours--
not a word that has been written by you or to you. That packet
contains a stolen letter: a letter written by a woman to a man--a
man not her husband--a letter that means disgrace, infamy--
NAPOLEON. A love letter?
LADY (bitter-sweetly). What else but a love letter could stir up
so much hate?
NAPOLEON. Why is it sent to me? To put the husband in my power,
eh?
LADY. No, no: it can be of no use to you: I swear that it will
cost you nothing to give it to me. It has been sent to you out of
sheer malice--solely to injure the woman who wrote it.
NAPOLEON. Then why not send it to her husband instead of to me?
LADY (completely taken aback). Oh! (Sinking back into the chair.)
I--I don't know. (She breaks down.)
NAPOLEON. Aha! I thought so: a little romance to get the papers
back. (He throws the packet on the table and confronts her with
cynical goodhumor.
Pages:
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68