SAINT-ALBIN (entering and speaking eagerly). Father!
(The Father walks up and down in silence.)

SAINT-ALBIN (following his father and entreating him). Father.

THE FATHER (stopping and speaking in a grave voice). My son,
if you have not taken counsel with yourself, if reason has not
brought you back to your senses, don't start adding to your
offences and to my distress.

SAINT-ALBIN. My own distress consumes me. I come to you
trembling. . . . I will be calm and sensible . . . yes, indeed I
will. . . . I have promised it to myself.
(The father goes on walking--SAINT-ALBIN, going timidly up to
him, says in a low faltering voice). You have seen her?

THE FATHER. Yes, I have seen her: she is beautiful and I imagine
virtuous. But what do you want with her? To amuse yourself?
I would not sanction that. If you want to make her your wife,
I can only say, she is not suitable for you.

SAINT-ALBIN (controlling himself). She is beautiful, she is virtuous
and she is not suitable for me! What sort of a wife is suitable
for me then?

THE FATHER. One who by education, birth, and the size of
her fortune can ensure your happiness and fulfil my expectations.

SAINT-ALBIN. And so my marriage is to be an affair of self-
interest and ambition! Father, you only have one son: do not
sacrifice him to such ideas, which fill the world with unhappy
marriages. I need a modest and tender partner capable of teaching
me to endure life's hardships, not a rich, titled wife who would
add to them. Indeed, I would rather die than marry a woman
such as some I have seen.

THE FATHER. I do not suggest anyone for you; but I will
never allow you to be united to the one you have been mad
enough to choose. I could assert my authority and say to you:

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