Widow. Ah, he has behaved very ill, I know, but love is so headstrong in the young. Don’t weep, madam.
Pauline. So, as you were saying—go on.
Widow. Oh, I cannot excuse him, ma’am—he was not in his right senses.
Pauline. But he always—always [sobbing] loved—loved me then?
Widow. He thought of nothing else. See here—he learnt to paint that he might take your likeness [uncovers the picture]. But that’s all over now—I trust you have cured him of his folly;—but, dear heart, you have had no breakfast!
Pauline. I can’t take anything—don’t trouble yourself.
Widow. Nay, madam, be persuaded; a little coffee will refresh you. Our milk and eggs are excellent. I will get out Claude’s coffee-cup—It is of real Sevres; he saved up all his money to buy it three years ago, because the name of Pauline was inscribed on it.
Pauline. Three years ago! Poor Claude!—Thank you; I think I will have some coffee. Oh! if he were but a poor gentleman, even a merchant: but a gardener’s son—and what a home!—Oh no,—it is too dreadful!
They seat themselves at the table, BEAUSEANT opens the lattice and looks in.
Beau. So—so—the coast is clear! I saw Claude in the lane—I shall have an excellent opportunity. [Shuts the lattice and knocks at the door.