Yes, or No?

MAJ. T.
Well, Yes!

MIN.
Yes?

MAJ. T.
Yes, yes! Yet--

MIN.
Patience! You love me still; that is enough for me. Into what a mood
have we fallen! an unpleasant, melancholy, infectious mood! I assume
my own again. Now, my dear unfortunate, you love me still, and have
your Minna still, and are unhappy? Hear what a conceited, foolish
thing your Minna was--is. She allowed--allows herself, to imagine that
she makes your whole happiness. Declare all your misery at once. She
would like to try how far she can outweigh it.--Well?

MAJ. T.
Madam, I am not accustomed to complain.

MIN.
Very well. I know nothing in a soldier, after boasting, that pleases
me less than complaining. But there is a certain cold, careless way of
speaking of bravery and misfortune--

MAJ. T.
Which at the bottom is still boasting and complaining.