JULIE. Well, you’re happy _now_, at least. ANGÈLE. Happy! When I went off with Georges—they told you, didn’t they? Well, his people got him away from me. His mother was dying of grief. Yes: I know that is not what you wish to hear, but I must tell you, that you may understand how I came to fall as low as I did. I was left alone with the child. I had to feed it, hadn’t I? You can understand that, at least. But how? Work? I tried to get work. But they told me to wait. How was I to wait? And then—my God! that I should have to tell you all this—then I let myself go. [_She sobs_]. And afterwards—No: I can’t speak of it. But you understand, Julie. You can guess. You can imagine what my life was when you see that even now I can’t bring myself to tell you about it. [_Mastering herself_]. You think women—women like me—are happy because you see us laugh. But to laugh is our trade. We are paid for that. And I swear to you often we would ask nothing better than just to sit and cry. And you talk of _choosing_! You poor child. Do you suppose we women _choose_? Oh, if you could but know how one comes to loathe the whole world, to be wicked, _wicked_! They despise us so. We have no friends, no pity, no justice. We are robbed, exploited. I tell you all this anyhow, just as it comes, but you understand, don’t you? And once you start downhill you can’t stop. That is our life, the life of women like me. That is the slough in which I have struggled ten years. No, no, Julie! No, little sister. I implore you don’t do as I did. It is too horrible, too abject, too degraded. JULIE. Poor Angèle. ANGÈLE. You understand, don’t you? JULIE. Yes. ANGÈLE [_rising_] I must go. Good-bye. I dare not look either of you in the face again now that you know everything, now that I remember what I once was. I knew you could never have anything more to do with me. But I felt such a craving to be loved that I half fancied you, at least, Caroline—I see I was wrong. Well, good-bye. 1 am going away. Forgive me, both of you, for what I have done. Goodbye. [_She turns to the door_]. CAROLINE. Angèle! [_A pause. Angèle turns at the door_]. I pity you with all my heart. [_Another pause_]. May I kiss you? [_Angèle throws herself into her arms_]. ANGÈLE. Caroline! My kind, good Caroline! _The three sisters embrace with tears._ _Dupont, Antonin, and Mairaut come in._ ANTONIN [_pushed forward by his father. To Julie_] My dear wife, I have come to ask you to forgive me. JULIE. It is I who ask _you_ to forgive _me_. I was full of romantic ideas. I thought marriage something quite different from what it is. Now that I understand I will be reasonable. One must make allowances. I will make some—to myself. DUPONT. That’s right. ANTONIN. That’s right. You can’t imagine how glad I am that you understand me at last. It seems to me it’s only from today that our marriage really begins. JULIE. Perhaps.