Don't call me that.
STRANGER (starting). Why not?
LADY. I don't like it. You'd feel as I do, if I called you Caesar.
STRANGER. Have we got back to that?
LADY. To what?
STRANGER. Did you mention that name for any reason?
LADY. Caesar? No. But I'm beginning to find things out.
STRANGER. Very well! Then I may as well fall honourably by my own
hand. I am Caesar, the school-boy, for whose escapade your husband,
the werewolf, was punished. Fate delights in making links for
eternity. A noble sport! (The LADY, uncertain what to do, does not
reply.) Say something!
LADY. I can't.
STRANGER. Say that he became a werewolf because, as a child, he
lost his belief in the justice of heaven, owing to the fact that,
though innocent, he was punished for the misdeeds of another. But
if you say so, I shall reply that I suffered ten times as much from
my conscience, and that the spiritual crisis that followed left me
so strengthened that I've never done such a thing again.
LADY. No. It's not that.
STRANGER. Then what is it? Do you respect me no longer?
LADY. It's not that either.
STRANGER. Then it's to make me feel my shame before you! And it
would be the end of everything between us.
LADY. No!
STRANGER. Eve.
LADY. You rouse evil thoughts.
STRANGER. You've broken your vow: you've been reading my book!
LADY. I have.
STRANGER. Then you've done wrong.
LADY. My intention was good.
STRANGER. The results even of your good intentions are terrible!
You've blown me into the air with my own petard.
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