But I am indignant
when I think of their latest remarks.
VALERE: You should count on them for they showed you a hundred signs
of friendship yesterday.
ISABELLE: It's from that that I see they have scorned me. For only in
embracing did they refuse me. The Prude scorned me with her haughty
airs, took a soft tone mixed with disdain, affected caresses and vapid
joking. You die in flattery.
"My tenderness for you," she told me very loudly, "makes me not want
you to marry so soon. That is to say to give to a nephew who presses
me some wealth to satisfy a mad passion; no I would become your
accomplice in authorizing it." And a hundred like remarks, in a
somewhat pleasant tone, made against marriage. "Be like us, a
forfeiture makes you wise. Imitate our strength of character. One
refusal will keep you at least from any forfeiture."
VALERE: What stupid remarks. Always the same rubric. But nothing comes
from their gothic spirit. Without worldliness, visiting no one except
her sister who is less hard than she is, but crazier from misfortune.
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