"Better than any one, I know, sir, how much one ought to suspect these reputations of such strict virtue, which often conceal the gallantries of women and the scoundrelism of men."
"You dare to say this, madame?"
"Since the commencement of our conversation, I do not know wherefore, I doubted that you deserve the consideration and esteem which you enjoy."
"Truly, madame, this doubt does honor to your perspicacity."
"Does it not so? for this doubt is founded on nothing—on mere instinct—on inexplicable presentiments; but rarely has this boding deceived me."
"Let us finish this conversation, madame."
"Before we do so, know my determination. I begin by telling you, that I am convinced of the death of my poor child; but, no matter, I will pretend she is not dead; the most unlikely events are often brought about. You are at this moment in such a position that you must have many envious rivals; they will regard it as a piece of good fortune to attack you. I will furnish means to them."
"You!"
"I, in attacking you under an absurd pretext, on an irregularity in the registry of death, let us say—no matter, I will maintain my child is not dead. As I have the greatest interest in having it believed that she still lives, although lost, this process will serve me in giving much notoriety to this affair; a mother who reclaims her child is always interesting; I shall have on my side those who are envious of you, your enemies, and all those who are feeling and romantic."
"This is as foolish as wicked. Why should I? For what interest should
I say your child is dead, if she were not?"