Rodmilla: Of all the insidious jokes, turning your mother into a Countess. Why it's almost as absurd as a prince who spends his days with a peasant who sleeps with pigs.
Danielle: What bothers you more, stepmother? That I am common? Or that I am competition?
Rodmilla: Where is the dress, Danielle?!
Danielle: I don't know what you're talking about.
Marguerite: The gown, the slippers, they were in my room this morning, and now they're gone. You hid them I know it!
Rodmilla: Where did you put the gown, Danielle?
Danielle: Where are the candlesticks, and the tapestries, and the silver?! Perhaps the dress is with them!
Rodmilla: You will produce that gown!
Danielle: I would rather die a thousand deaths than to see my mother's dress on that spoiled, selfish cow!
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