Che. You don’t flatter yourself.
Miss Mea. I wish you to anticipate the worst, so that if you should find me not so bad as expected, the surprise may be the more agreeable to you. If you do marry me, it must be entirely for myself. Now if you persist in your intention, all that I can say is, that you are indeed a bold man!
Che. I will be equally as candid with you. You do not reject my offered hand?
Miss Mea. No.
Che. Then if you accept me, you will marry a poor artist, who is entirely dependent on his own exertions—who likes retirement, has no care for company—who wants to be petted when he complains—his every whim indulged—who cannot endure contradiction—and, with very inferior capabilities, wishes ever to be thought most superior in all things—but one who, amidst this chaos of fault, can still create a little world of love for you!
Miss Mea. After such a confession, I must be quite as bold a woman as you are a man, to take you—though when two people set about mutually confessing their faults, there may be some hope that they intend to correct them.
Che. Corrected or not, are you content?
Miss Mea. I am; and there is my hand to the bargain.
Che. And this kiss upon its white fingers, ratifies the contract!
[CHESTER kisses her hand—she in return presses his hand to her lips.