The Indian Woman (L'Indienne)

Ah! unhappy Azora, how I pity you!

Indeed, Lord, I am much to be pitied; but the pity you seem to feel for my sufferings diminishes their weight significantly.

I share them with the best of my soul.

Ah! Lord, it depends on you to end them.

Console yourself. They will be ended this very day; I give you my word. My slave Mendès has gone to notify the Grand College: he has had to prepare my funeral pyre; as soon as he returns, I will tell him to set up yours, and you will have the happiness of being burned on my left.

What, Lord!....

It has been more than one hundred and fifty years since this supreme honor has been granted to any woman in the whole extent of the Indies.

But I did not think...

Also, it is out of consideration for Lord Arbace; rejoice in having been chosen, above all the women of Agra, for such a beautiful triumph; you will make five hundred of them die of envy.

I am not vain.

Ah! however, glory, glory!.....

Let us speak more frankly, Lord: Is it possible that you do not feel the ridiculousness of this custom? Any Law that destroys humanity is necessarily criminal, consider...