I’m revenged for everything in advance and needn’t be disturbed, whatever happens.
Harlequin (giving him the lute): Perhaps you’ll accompany us?
Columbine: Of course! Is he to do nothing?
Pierrot: With the greatest pleasure, if it helps you. (To Audience.) I hope you understand what a matter of indifference this is to a husband who can vindicate his wounded honour.
Columbine: Play!
Pierrot (to Audience): Lord, how easy you are, when you’re revenged, and nobody has any right to laugh at you. (Plays vigorously. Dance. Suddenly Harlequin falls in a faint on the bed. Pierrot stops playing.)
Columbine: What’s happened to you? What’s the matter?
Harlequin (holding his heart): No—it’s nothing, a trifle. (His heart beats like a sledge-hammer, and he breathes like an engine.)
Columbine: How furiously your heart’s beating! What terrible breathing!
Pierrot (to Audience, joyfully): Harlequin’s giving in. Harlequin’s weakening. Rejoice with me, poor husbands—you whose wives are in danger!
