ISABELLE: Their hardness towards you condemns them. Ah, Valere, they push their ill natures too far. To not love you!
VALERE: I hoped that through you, my two aunts would do something for us, and that having seen you, adorable Isabelle, they could be counted on.
ISABELLE: Their barbarity is such that they speak of you with aversion.
VALERE: What unpleasant spirits not to approve my tender passion.
ISABELLE: To be capable of hating Valere. Their evil hearts make me tremble. I despair over it.
VALERE: Your father is still going to press them. Thus we may still hope. He's going to meet us here.
ISABELLE: Yes, give us at least a moment of hope. But I am indignant when I think of their latest remarks.
VALERE: You should count on them for they showed you a hundred signs of friendship yesterday.
ISABELLE: It's from that that I see they have scorned me. For only in embracing did they refuse me. The Prude scorned me with her haughty airs, took a soft tone mixed with disdain, affected caresses and vapid joking. You die in flattery.
"My tenderness for you," she told me very loudly, "makes me not want you to marry so soon. That is to say to give to a nephew who presses me some wealth to satisfy a mad passion; no I would become your accomplice in authorizing it." And a hundred like remarks, in a somewhat pleasant tone, made against marriage. "Be like us, a forfeiture makes you wise. Imitate our strength of character. One refusal will keep you at least from any forfeiture."