MME. DE RONCHARD [_agitated, walks to and fro rapidly_ L.]
Yes, indeed. If we had not received this piece of news as a bomb which destroys the power of reflection, if we could have taken time to reason the thing out, to make plans, we could have hidden everything from you, and the devil would have been in it before you would have known anything! Our fault has been that of being too sincere and too loyal. Yet, I do not regret it; it is always better to act openly in life.
Silence, Clarisse. [_To_ Martinel.] Be it so, Monsieur. There is no question of your honor or of your loyalty, which have been absolutely patent in this unfortunate affair. I willingly admit that your nephew knew nothing of the situation, but how about the child? What is there to prove that it is Jean's?
Jean alone can prove or disprove that. He believes it, and you know that it is not to his interest to believe it. There is nothing very joyful about such a complication--a poor, little foundling thrusting himself upon one like a thunderbolt, without warning, and upon the very evening of one's marriage. But Jean believes that the child is his, and I--and all of us--must we not accept it as he has accepted it, as the child's father has accepted it? Come, now. [_A short silence._] You ask me to prove to you that this child belongs to Jean?
MME. DE RONCHARD AND PETITPRÉ [_together_]
Then first prove to me that it is not Jean's child.
And so do you. The principal judge in the matter, look you, is my nephew himself. We others can do nothing but accept his decision.
Silence, Clarisse. Monsieur Martinel is right.
There can be no better reason, Madame. [_To_ Petitpré.] I was quite sure that you would understand me, Monsieur, for you are a man of sense.
And it is exactly as a woman of the world that I protest, Monsieur. You have a very pretty way of putting things, but none the less this is a fact: Jean Martinel brings to his bride, as a nuptial present, on the day of his marriage, an illegitimate child. Well, I ask you, woman of the world or not, can she accept such a thing?
My sister is in the right this time, Monsieur Martinel.
It is evident that a situation exists patent and undeniable, which places us in an awkward dilemma. We have wedded our daughter to a man supposedly free from all ties and all complications in life, and then comes--what you know has come. The consequences should be endured by him, not by us. We have been wounded and deceived in our confidence, and the consent that we have given to this marriage we should certainly have refused, had we known the actual circumstances.