Jadwiga.--Do not smile in that ironical way. Be better, be less severe with me. I do not even have any one to complain, and that is why I do not drive away Count Skorzewski. I detest his beauty, I despise his perverse mind, but I do not drive him away because he is a skilful actor, and because when I see his acting it awakens in me the echo of former days. (After a while.) How shall I fill my life? Study? Art? Even if I loved them, they would not love me for they are not living things. No, truly now! They showed me no duties, no aims, no foundations. Everything on which other women live--everything which constitutes their happiness, sincere sorrow, strength, tears, and smiles, is barred from me. Morally I have nothing to live on--like a beggar. I have no one to live for--like an orphan. I am not permitted to yearn for a noble and quiet life; I may only nurture myself with grief and defend myself with faded, dead flowers, and remembrances of former pure, honest, and loving Jadwinia. Ah! again I break my promise, our agreement. I must beg your pardon. Leon.--Mme. Jadwiga, both our lives are tangled. When I was most unhappy, when everything abandoned me, there remained with me the love of an idea--love of the country. Jadwiga (thoughtfully).--The love of an idea--country. There is something great in that. You, by each of your pictures, increase the glory of the country and make famous its name, but I--what can I do? Leon.--The one who lives simply, suffers and quietly fulfils his duties--he also serves his country. Jadwiga.--What duties? Give them to me. For every-day life one great, ideal love is not enough for me. I am a woman! I must cling to something--twine about something like the ivy--otherwise truly, sir, I should fall to the ground and be trampled upon (with an outburst). If I could only respect him! Leon.--But, madam, you should remember to whom you are speaking of such matters. I have no right to know of your family affairs. Jadwiga.--No. You have not the right, nor are you obliged nor willing. Only friendly hearts know affliction--only those who suffer can sympathize. You--looking into the stars--you pass human misery and do not turn your head even when that misery shouts to you. It is your fault. Leon.--My fault! Jadwiga.--Do not frown, and do not close your mouth (beseechingly). I do not reproach you for anything. I have forgiven you long ago, and now I, the giddy woman whom the world always sees merry and laughing--I am really so miserable that I have even no strength left for hatred. Leon.--Madam! Enough! I have listened to your story--do not make me tell you mine. If you should hear it a still heavier burden would fall on your shoulders. Jadwiga.--No, no. We could be happy and we are not. It is the fault of both. How dreadful to think that we separated on account of almost nothing--on account of one thoughtless word--and we separated forever (she covers her face with her hands), without hope.