DURAND. No, thank you, we must stick to this course even if it leads us into the lake! And I don't want to continue in this business, which doesn't bring bread—nothing but humiliations. Just think how it was last spring, when the house had been empty for three months. Then at last an American family came and saved us. The morning after their arrival I ran across the son catching hold of my daughter on the stairs. It was Thérèse,—he was trying to kiss her. What would you have done in my case?
ANTONIO [Confused]. I don't know—
DURAND. I know what I, as a father, should have done, but—father-like—I didn't do it. But I know what to do the next time.
ANTONIO. On account of that very thing it seems to me that you should think very carefully about what you do, and not leave your daughters to chance.
DURAND. Monsieur Antonio, you are a young man who, for some inexplicable reason, has won my regard. Whether you grant it, or not, I am going to ask one thing of you. Don't form any opinions about me as an individual, or about my conduct.
ANTONIO. Monsieur Durand, I promise it if you will answer me one question; are you Swiss born, or not?
DURAND. I am a Swiss citizen.
ANTONIO. Yes, I know that, but I ask if you were born in Switzerland.
DURAND [Uncertainly]. Yes.
ANTONIO. I asked only—because it interested me. Nevertheless—as I must believe you that your pension must be closed, I want to pay what I owe. To be sure it's only ten francs, but I can't go away and leave an unpaid bill.