ARG. No, it will not.
SCA. Yes, yes.
ARG. I tell you that I will disinherit him.
SCA. Rubbish.
ARG. You may say rubbish; but I will.
SCA. Gracious me, I know that you are naturally a kind-hearted man.
ARG. No, I am not kind-hearted; I can be angry when I choose. Leave off talking; you put me out of all patience. (To SYLVESTRE) Go, you rascal, run and fetch my son, while I go to Mr. Géronte and tell him of my misfortune.
SCA. Sir, if I can be useful to you in any way, you have but to order me.
ARG. I thank you. (Aside) Ah! Why is he my only son? Oh! that I had with me the daughter that Heaven has taken away from me, so that I might make her my heir.