LUCIE. Is that absolutely final?
MME. BERNIN. Absolutely final.
LUCIE. Because Annette has no dowry?
MME. BERNIN. Yes.
LUCIE. But your son knew that she was poor. It’s monstrous of him to have made her love him.
MME. BERNIN. If he had acted as you describe, I admit it would be monstrous. But he had no intention of engaging her affections. Annette was a friend of his sister’s. I am sure he had no idea in meeting her beyond that of simple good comradeship. Very likely he went on to pay her some attention; indeed he might well have been attracted by her. Your sweet little Annette, who is the most innocent of creatures, has fallen more easily and more deeply, perhaps, in love. Innocence like hers is closely akin to ignorance. But that my son has more to reproach himself with! You can easily see that he has not, because it was he who told me about it himself.
LUCIE. How long ago?
MME. BERNIN. Just now. He told me that he was in love with Annette, as she, no doubt, thinks herself with him; and, in fact, he begged me to come and ask for her hand.
LUCIE. Only today?
MME. BERNIN. A couple of hours since.