"For none of those horrid things, my dear. We ought not to marry because we should make a mistake."
"A mistake?"
"Yes, a mistake, which later would make us so unhappy, you and I. Now, we ought not to be unhappy."
"But why? But why?" he asked, very agitatedly.
"Because I am very rich and you are very poor."
"How horrible! How horrible!" he murmured gloomily, despondently.
"Que faire, mon cher?" she exclaimed in French, shrugging her shoulders; "I have this money because father gave it to me, and I can't throw it away: can I? Money isn't such a bad thing. It isn't my fault if I have so much of it."
"Neither is it my fault if I am so poor," he rejoined sadly.
"Nor is it mine, dear Vittorio."