DUPONT. I think so, too. At the same time we must remember—how shall I put it? Her way of life. It is a difficult question. And then what am I to say to her? Ought I to refer to the past? I must not seem to be forgiving her, of course. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t possibly. On the other hand, since she is coming, I can hardly—Confound it, it’s all extremely awkward. Eh?
MME. DUPONT. I can’t advise you.
DUPONT [still thinking it out] Of course, she is my daughter. Still, I have not seen her for eighteen years. [Peevishly] I thought I should never set eyes on her again. In the early days, when she first went away, I was terribly distressed. But that couldn’t last, could it? And then, you understand—Well, well, you must advise me. I have prepared something to say, so as not to leave everything to the inspiration of the moment. If one doesn’t think things out beforehand, one always says too much or too little. So, as I said, I have prepared something. I even wrote it out, but I know it by heart. You can imagine how upset I am with all this. Here it is: ‘My child’—I think it best to say ‘my child.’ ‘Angèle’ would be too familiar and ‘my daughter’ too formal. ‘My child’—[breaking off]. And what makes it all the harder is that I’ve no idea what she will say to me. Her letters are very properly expressed, very properly. Still, will she cry? Will she break down? Will she faint? I don’t know. It’s impossible to know. Dear me, I wish the next half hour were over. However: ‘My child, I thank you for having come.’ The fact is I ought to tell you I haven’t given Caroline quite a true account of how things stood. I thought it wiser not.
MME. DUPONT. What do you mean?
DUPONT. It’s this way. Caroline is the one who could not get her legacy without Angèle’s signature. Not the other way about.
MME. DUPONT. But you said—
DUPONT. Yes; I did misrepresent matters a little. You see Caroline would never have agreed to meet Angèle if she had known that it was she who needed Angèle’s presence, not Angèle hers. Angèle is the executor under the will. In fact, it is she who is doing us a service. But if we go into all that we shall never be done. Well, I say to her: ’My child, I thank you for having come. Let us not speak of the past. I only wish to remember one thing, that you have not visited upon your sister Caroline the resentment which doubtless I inspire in you. I am grateful to you.’ What do you think of that? [The maid comes in]. Good heavens, here she is! [Pointing to the papers, account books, etc., which lie on the table] And that fool Courthezon has never taken away the books. [To the maid] Wait a minute. [To Madame Dupont] Come, come this way. You can tell me whether I ought to make any change. [In a low voice to the maid] Ask her to wait a moment. Say I am engaged. [He goes out with Madame Dupont. The maid shows in Angèle. She is a woman of thirtyfive, dressed in black, very quietly, but fashionably].
MAID. Monsieur is engaged, but I don’t think he will be long. Whom shall I say, madame?
ANGÈLE. Madame Angèle Dupont.