HAR. You will abide by what he says? ELI. Yes, whatever he thinks right, I will do. HAR. Agreed. SCENE VII.--VALÈRE, HARPAGON, ÉLISE. HAR. Valère, we have chosen you to decide who is in the right, my daughter or I. VAL. It is certainly you, Sir. HAR. But have you any idea of what we are talking about? VAL. No; but you could not be in the wrong; you are reason itself. HAR. I want to give her to-night, for a husband, a man as rich as he is good; and the hussy tells me to my face that she scorns to take him. What do you say to that? VAL. What I say to it? HAR. Yes? VAL. Eh! eh! HAR. What? VAL. I say that I am, upon the whole, of your opinion, and that you cannot but be right; yet, perhaps, she is not altogether wrong; and ... HAR. How so? Mr. Anselme is an excellent match; he is a nobleman, and a gentleman too; of simple habits, and extremely well off. He has no children left from his first marriage. Could she meet with anything more suitable? VAL. It is true. But she might say that you are going rather fast, and that she ought to have at least a little time to consider whether her inclination could reconcile itself to ... HAR. It is an opportunity I must not allow to slip through my fingers. I find an advantage here which I should not find elsewhere, and he agrees to take her without dowry. VAL. Without dowry? HAR. Yes. VAL. Ah! I have nothing more to say. A more convincing reason could not be found; and she must yield to that. HAR. It is a considerable saving to me. VAL. Undoubtedly; this admits of no contradiction. It is true that your daughter might represent to you that marriage is a more serious affair than people are apt to believe; that the happiness or misery of a whole life depends on it, and that an engagement which is to last till death ought not to be entered into without great consideration. HAR. Without dowry! VAL. That must of course decide everything. There are certainly people who might tell you that on such occasions the wishes of a daughter are no doubt to be considered, and that this great disparity of age, of disposition, and of feelings might be the cause of many an unpleasant thing in a married life. HAR. Without dowry! VAL. Ah! it must be granted that there is no reply to that; who in the world could think otherwise? I do not mean to say but that there are many fathers who would set a much higher value on the happiness of their daughter than on the money they may have to give for their marriage; who would not like to sacrifice them to their own interests, and who would, above all things, try to see in a marriage that sweet conformity of tastes which is a sure pledge of honour, tranquillity and joy; and that ... HAR. Without dowry! VAL. That is true; nothing more can be said. Without dowry. How can anyone resist such arguments? HAR. (_aside, looking towards the garden_). Ah! I fancy I hear a dog barking. Is anyone after my money. (_To_ VALÈRE) Stop here, I'll come back directly.