LUCIE. I don’t know about that. Oh, my poor darling! If you could have seen her here just now when she came to tell us! She cried with joy! It’s not for joy that she’ll cry now. Oh, my God! [She breaks into tears].
MME. BERNIN [moved] Oh, don’t! Please, please! I understand your grief; indeed I do. Ah, if it were possible, how happy it would make me for Annette to marry my boy. I tell you I have had to stop myself from loving her. What a contrast to the girl he will have to marry—tiresome, affected creature.
LUCIE. If what you say is true, aren’t you rich enough to let your son marry a poor girl?
MME. BERNIN. No; we are not so well off as people suppose. And then we must give Gabrielle a dowry.
LUCIE. You’ll find her a husband who will want her for herself.
MME. BERNIN. Even if we did, which I doubt, I would not desire a man like that for her, because he would be blind to the realities of the situation. Gabrielle has not been brought up to poverty, but to a life of luxurious surroundings.
LUCIE. Give your children an equal amount, then.
MME. BERNIN. All that we can give Gabrielle will not be too much. Life is hard, and becomes a harder struggle every day. Young men tend to ask more with their wives, because they know the power of money in the keen competition of modern existence.
LUCIE. Oh, yes; they know it! Their creed is to have enjoyment as soon as possible, without making the least sacrifice for it, and a fig for gentleness or emotion!
MME. BERNIN. You may be right. I want Gabrielle to be rich because riches will attract more bidders for her hand, so that she will have more choice.