MME. MAIRAUT. Nonsense. We are as well off as you are, I hope. Our bank is worth as much as your printing business.
DUPONT. Most people wouldn’t say so. As to that, by the way, I should like to ask you—
MME. MAIRAUT. No, monsieur. I have nothing further to say to you. And I am now going to inform my son how you have treated us.
MME. DUPONT. Madame Mairaut!
MME. MAIRAUT. Are you coming, Alfred?
Mairaut makes a gesture of regret and distress behind his wife’s back, and then follows her out.
MME. DUPONT. This is terrible.
DUPONT. Eh! [Pulling himself together]. No! On reflection I’m inclined to think it’s the best thing that could have happened. I regret nothing. Rather the contrary.
MME. DUPONT. I don’t understand.