Thérèse. Like a workgirl. There's nothing to be ashamed of in that.
Féliat. And you are going to earn your own living. How?
Thérèse. I shall work. There's nothing to be ashamed of in that, either.
Guéret. I see. But a properly brought up young lady doesn't work for her living if she can possibly avoid it.
Madame Guéret. And above all, a properly brought up young lady doesn't live all alone.
Thérèse. All the same—
Madame Guéret. You are perfectly free. There's no doubt about that. We have no power to prevent you from doing exactly as you choose.
Guéret. But your father left you in my care.
Thérèse. Please, godmamma, don't be hard upon me. I feel you think I'm ungrateful, though you don't say so. I know that often and often I shall long for your kindness and for the home where you've given me a place. I've shocked you. Do please forgive me. I'm made like that, and made differently from you. I don't say you're not right; I only say I'm different. Certain ideas have come to me from being educated at the Lycée and from all these books I've read. I think I'm able to earn my own living, and so I look upon it as my bounden duty not to trespass upon your charity. It's a question of personal dignity. Don't you think that I'm right, godfather? [With a change of tone] Besides, if I did go to Evreux with you, what should I do there?
Guéret. It's pretty easy to guess.