VALERE: What can I think?
ISABELLE: Oh. What blow to Valere.
GERONTE: Your aunts have made this separation imperative.
VALERE: What, charming Isabelle, I mustn't see you any more? What,
sir, do you wish to put me in despair? You are going to tear me from
Isabelle!
GERONTE: Yes, Valere.
VALERE: Ah, at least beg your father to stay in Paris several more
days.
ISABELLE: No, Valere.
VALERE: Oh, sir.
GERONTE: Useless words.
VALERE: Oh, if it is your wish, adorable Isabelle.
GERONTE: I don't wish it, but through care of her. She wishes that
which it is her duty to wish. To return to the country immediately
without seeing you any further.
VALERE: And you consent to this?
ISABELLE: It's better so, Valere. I gave you my heart by order of my
father. I obeyed him. He now intends, wisely, that I separate from
you. It must be admitted frankly that I am not sure of a like
obedience. But I am going.
VALERE: What, sir, deny me all hope?
GERONTE: Better to give you no hope when I have none.
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