She glanced round for a moment at her pseudo-mother with contempt. "No;" she said. "I don't think I ought,--and I won't."
"You won't!" shouted Melmotte. She merely shook her head. "Do you mean that you, my own child, will attempt to rob your father just at the moment you can destroy him by your wickedness?" She shook her head but said no other word.
"Nec pueros coram populo Medea trucidet."
"Let not Medea with unnatural rage Slaughter her mangled infants on the stage."

"I won't."
"You won't!" shouted Melmotte. "Do you mean that you will attempt to rob your father and destroy him by your wickedness?" She shook her head but said no other word.
