Mercedes: Is Viscount Torville dead?
Fernand: Well, unless his heart is situated somewhere other than the left side of his chest, I suspect he is.
Mercedes: [choking up, and making the sign of the cross] God grant him peace. He did no more than defend his family's honor.
Fernand: Much good it did him. His wife and I were happy in our passion. You were happy in your ignorance. Now comes the viscount's valiant defense of his honor, and you are pained. She is ruined, and he is dead.
Mercedes: Don't flatter yourself, Fernand. I was neither happy, nor ignorant, having known about the last three women before Madame Tourville.
Fernand: I'm sorry that you are humiliated. The combination of Paris and me is hardly a recipe for fidelity, is it? But since my attempts at discretion have evidently failed, there seems little point in keeping up pretenses. It's actually quite... liberating. Wouldn't you say?