The Forfeiture | Page 4

VALERE: What unpleasant spirits not to approve my tender passion.
ISABELLE: To be capable of hating Valere. Their evil hearts make me
tremble. I despair over it.
VALERE: Your father is still going to press them. Thus we may still
hope. He's going to meet us here.
ISABELLE: Yes, give us at least a moment of hope. 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.
ISABELLE: I am a little less furious with Araminte. For a few
moments I thought I'd won her over. But her character is subject to
change. Agitating itself with several passions at the same time, in her
burning and turbulent vivacity. Here's what was told me by this aunt. "I
rave from time to time but I have some sentiments. I love love but I
hate lovers. Abhor them, too. I intend it, I order it. Without cease I
promise but I never give, I hate my nephew a lot but I love you a great
deal." From this balderdash I still conclude that she will do more for
you than her sister.-- My father's coming.
VALERE: I am going to learn my fate.
ISABELLE: I tremble. Oh, I see him overwhelmed with chagrin.
VALERE: His approach seizes me. My misfortune is certain.
(Enter Geronte)
GERONTE: You perceive by observing my sadness that I have
received only a refusal. My goodness, my fondness spoke loudly for
you on this occasion. Take your leave daughter.
ISABELLE: Must we part?
GERONTE: Yes, daughter.
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. You hoped
to get 40,000 ecus restitution from your aunts. I tell you again, these
two extravagants intend to keep that forfeiture, saying you cannot get it
from us unless one of us marries. They're both over fifty. It's a joke to
believe that will happen. I need money. My wealth is perishing.
Expenses are ruining me. So, as a wise man, I ought to go back to the
country and contract a marriage that will get me out of this financial
trouble.
VALERE: True, but--
GERONTE: Let's break it off, then. It's with great shame, but tomorrow
we part, that's certain.
ISABELLE: Oh, Valere; if I'm under orders from my father, be sure
that in parting--
GERONTE: (taking Isabelle by the arm) Let's shorten the goodbyes.
When one must leave, the shortest is the best.
(Exit Isabelle and Geronte)
VALERE: I am in despair. This parting kills me.
(Enter Frontin dressed as a cavalier, passing before Valere who is in
despair)
FRONTIN: Sir.
VALERE: What is it then?
FRONTIN: It's Fortune greeting you.

VALERE: What do I see?
FRONTIN: You see Frontin who was wearing livery this morning.
VALERE: What are you talking about? Why are