Marie and Lucile listened in the greatest wonder, and they cried out simultaneously:
“We thought you loved Rosalind better than any of us!”
In his anger he replied truthfully:
“I have never pretended to love her, and I regret now I ever made the rash promise to marry her, for very likely she only desires it to get revenge on Charley and Berenice for their fault against her, which was not so dreadful, after all, for my son swears he confessed all to Rosalind first and asked release from his engagement to her, although afterward she denied it to us, and we rashly took her word against Charley’s. When I look back I remember that Rosalind really courted me first instead of my courting her, and through an old man’s flattered vanity and the wish to atone for Charley’s fault, I promised to make her my bride. But now I swear I am sorry for it, and wish I could retreat in honor, for I shrink from putting another in the place of your dead mother, my beloved wife; and, besides, I do not believe in the union of May and December.”
“But, papa, you cannot retreat from your bond. It would be unfair to Rosalind; it would be worse than Charley, for the wedding day is barely a month off,” they reminded him.
“No, I cannot retreat in honor. I must marry Rosalind and make the most of my life,” he replied bitterly, adding:
“Fortunately my private business and affairs of state engross most of my time, and as for her, I suppose she will be happy enough spending my money and flirting with younger men.”
“Oh, papa!” cried Lucile reproachfully.
“For shame, papa!” cried Marie indignantly.
But in their hearts they both knew he spoke truly.