ADOLPHE. From a thousand breasts that you have rid of the
nightmare that had been crushing them during a lifetime. Humanity
had been slandered--and you have exonerated it: that's why men
feel grateful toward you. To-day they are once more holding their
heads high and saying: You see, we are a little better than our
reputation after all. And that thought makes them better.

(HENRIETTE tries to hide her emotion.)

ADOLPHE. Am I in the way? Just let me warm myself a little in your
sunshine, Maurice, and then I'll go.

MAURICE. Why should you go when you have only just arrived?

ADOLPHE. Why? Because I have seen what I need not have seen;
because I know now that my hour is past. [Pause] That you sent for
me, I take as an expression of thoughtfulness, a notice of what
has happened, a frankness that hurts less than deceit. You hear
that I think well of my fellow-beings, and this I have learned
from you, Maurice. [Pause] But, my friend, a few moments ago I
passed through the Church of St. Germain, and there I saw a woman
and a child. I am not wishing that you had seen them, for what has
happened cannot be altered, but if you gave a thought or a word to
them before you set them adrift on the waters of the great city,
then you could enjoy your happiness undisturbed. And now I bid you
good-by.

HENRIETTE. Why must you go?