BRIGNAC. If she went to Madeleine or Catherine, it would be exactly as if we kept her here. The important thing is that no one should know anything about it. She must go to Paris, to some big town, till the birth of her child.
LUCIE. It’s not possible.
BRIGNAC. The only thing not possible is to let it be known, to keep her at Chartres. Can’t you imagine what it would be like for her if we did? Think of her going to a concert or to Mass when her condition became evident! She wouldn’t be able to go out of the house without being exposed to insult and insolence. And the way our acquaintances would look at her! Why, it would be purgatory.
LUCIE. And everyone will welcome M. Jacques Bernin.
BRIGNAC. Of course they will. And when the child is born, what then? I’m not thinking of the expense: fortunately for her she has us to fall back on, so she wouldn’t starve. Suppose she put the baby out to nurse? Afterwards she’d have to keep it with her—imagine what people would say! She might pay for it to be brought up elsewhere, but that’s only a way of deserting it. She would never be able to marry. All her life she would be a pariah. No; the only thing is to send her away.
LUCIE. Send her away—where to?
BRIGNAC. How should I know? We’ll find some place. There are places for that at Paris. Yes; I remember now, special places. We’ll pay whatever is necessary. Establishments where you’re not required to give your name at all. The difficulty will be to find a plausible reason of Annette’s absence. However, we’ll find one.
LUCIE. And the child?
BRIGNAC. The child? She can do what she likes with that. You don’t suppose I’ll have it back here with her, do you?