Forjot. I am not the only one you ought to thank. Hélène has always respected you: she has taught Pascaline to love you! It seems to me that should touch you. Give our child back to us. Now, admit it, you have launched yourself upon a new life. You have made yourself different from us. I can’t well explain myself; and it is difficult to make you understand my feelings because I don’t want to use words that might hurt or irritate you; but I must put the facts before you plainly.
Always generous is Forjot. Not one brutal, not one harsh word does he throw at his wife! He promises that Pascaline shall continue to visit her as often as she pleases, if Gabrielle, on the other side, will promise not to poison Pascaline’s mind against him and Hélène. Gabrielle is touched. Rising, she opens the door, and brings in Pascaline. And Pascaline, seeing her poor father’s anxious, care-worn face, runs up to him.
Pascaline. Oh, father! father! advise me. I am puzzled, bewildered. Something tells me I am acting badly; but I don’t know what I ought to do. Oh, dear, I don’t know what I ought to do!
Forjot. My little Girl, it all depends upon you whether I am to finish my life in misery, or in peace. You can give me happiness in the days I have still to live. But to do that, you must come back to us; and you must try to treat Hélène with the respect and gratitude you owe her. In her despair at not being able to win back your affection, she wants to leave us. She wishes to return once more to the lonely, uncertain life of a governess. She wants to plunge herself into this unknown, uncertain destiny. It is I who appeal to you to have mercy upon her, and upon me.
Pascaline. Ah, if only I might love you without being false to Mama!
Gabrielle [emotionally]. You can, you can, Pascaline! Yes, my daughter, I am not the mother that you believe in! Since I left you I have created for myself a new life, new habits, new affections; and then, Pascaline, I am going to marry again!
Always, emotionally, Gabrielle tells how she once had two paths to choose, and that she chose the wrong one.
But Pascaline interrupts her with a cry of: “What a calumny!” and vows that her mother has never done wrong. And that she knows for certain, as Hélène herself has often told her so.
Gabrielle. Eh bien, va embrasser Hélène pour cela. Je te le demande. Je vous la confie, Hélène.
And so, the end. Not heroic, in accordance with the English poetic sentiment, demanding that Gabrielle should pass out sorrowing and penitent; convicted in her child’s eyes, who flies for safety to the virtuous bosom of Hélène, but à l’amiable, in accordance with the French sentiment expressed by Forjot: “Mon enfant, si l’on n’avait pas d’indulgence les uns pour les autres, la vie des plus braves gens ne serait pas possible.”