LUCIE. We have been to blame?
MME. B. I know Annette, and I like her very much. I know you too, better than you think, and I have the greatest respect and esteem for you; it has never even occurred to me that in seeking our acquaintance you had any other motive than friendship. But you ought to have feared and foreseen what has happened?
LUCIE. What should I fear? Annette went to see Gabrielle. How could I know that you let your son be with them? You knew it because it happened at your house, and it is you who have been wanting in prudence and foresight. You invited this poor child, you exposed her to danger, you let her take a fancy to your son, you allowed them to fall in love with one another, and you come to-day and calmly tell me that this marriage is impossible, and you are going off to the country leaving it to me to break the poor child’s heart.
MME. B. How do you know I foresaw nothing? And how can one tell the right moment to interfere to prevent playmates becoming lovers? While I was uncertain didn’t I run the risk of causing the very thing I was anxious to prevent, by separating them without a good reason? When I really felt sure there was danger I spoke to Jacques. I said to him ‘Annette is not a suitable match for you: you must be very careful how you behave to her: don’t forget to treat this girl as a sister.’
LUCIE. And he said ‘It is too late: we love each other.’
MME. B. On the contrary, he said: ‘You needn’t worry, mother. I have been thinking the same thing myself, and I am a man of honor. Besides, though Annette is charming, she’s not the sort of woman I mean to marry.’
LUCIE. How long ago did he tell you that?
MME. B. About two months ago.
LUCIE. Well, at that time he had already spoken of marriage to Annette; or at least he had spoken of love, which from him to her is the same thing.
MME. B. I can only tell you what I know.