Mme. de Céran. There are more serious things in life than that, Duchess.
Duchess. More serious than love? Nonsense! Do you mean to say that when that is gone, there is any other happiness left? When we are old, we have false pleasures, just as we have false teeth, but there is only one true happiness, and that is love, love!
Mme. de Céran. Oh, Aunt, you are too romantic!
Duchess. The fault of my years! Women find romance but twice in their lives: at sixteen in their own hearts, at sixty in the hearts of others. Well, you want your son to marry Lucy; I want him to marry Suzanne. You say Suzanne is in love with Bellac; I say, Lucy. Perhaps we are both wrong; it is for Roger to decide.
Mme. de Céran. How?
Duchess. I shall explain the whole situation to him the moment he arrives.
Mme. de Céran. Do you intend——?
Duchess. He is her tutor! (Aside) He must know.
(Enter Lucy.)
Lucy. (In a low-cut evening gown) I believe your son has arrived, Madame.