MME. MAIRAUT. For his invention! An invention not worth twopence, Antonin says. MME. DUPONT. You think more of strangers than your own flesh and blood. DUPONT. Just at the very time when my plant needed renewing. MME. MAIRAUT. And when her brother-in-law is on the verge of bankruptcy. Yes, mademoiselle, yes! And this money, which you give to a crack-brained inventor who is nothing to you, might perhaps have saved your sister from penury. That is all I have to say to you. Good bye. [_She goes_]. DUPONT. Well! Perhaps now you’ll tell us why you have done this? MME. DUPONT. What has taken you? How did such an idea come into your head? DUPONT. Do you imagine his invention will make your fortune? CAROLINE. No. DUPONT. Do you know anything at all about it? CAROLINE. No. MME. DUPONT. Did he ask you to lend him money? CAROLINE. No. DUPONT. Then you ought to be put in an asylum. You’re out of your senses. MME. DUPONT. I still can’t make out how you came to have such an idea. CAROLINE [_beginning to cry_] I was unhappy. DUPONT. What! You give away fifteen thousand francs to the first comer because you are unhappy! CAROLINE. I hope he will be grateful for what I have done for him, and that— DUPONT. Well? CAROLINE. I am no longer young, I know; but he is not young either. DUPONT. You think he will _marry_ you! CAROLINE. Yes. DUPONT. Then you don’t know— MME. DUPONT. Hush. CAROLINE. I can’t go on living alone. I am too wretched. For a long time I have thought—when I saw M. Courthezon, so steady and careful and quiet—I thought I could be happy with him. But I knew he would never marry me without money, and there was only enough for Julie. The time when I was most unhappy was when M. Antonin was here. He used to talk to Julie. They took no notice of me. They used to kiss one another. And though I don’t think I’m jealous, it made me very wretched. So when this legacy came, and I knew M. Courthezon needed money for his invention, I thought I would give him some. MME. DUPONT. You should at least have given him some idea of what you meant. It would have saved you from disappointment, my poor child. DUPONT. You should have spoken to me. I could have told you why you had nothing to hope in that quarter. CAROLINE. Nothing to hope? But why? Why? DUPONT. Because for twenty years Courthezon has been living with a married woman. He does not speak of it, of course, but they have two children. CAROLINE [_faintly_] God have pity on me! [_She almost falls_]. MME. DUPONT. Caroline! My child! DUPONT. My child. Come, come. You must be reasonable. MME. DUPONT. You mustn’t cry like that. CAROLINE [_sobbing_] No. DUPONT [_to his wife_] This is your fault. We should have told her that Courthezon—But you always said no. MME. DUPONT. One can’t tell things like that to a young girl. And afterwards, when she was grown up, it didn’t seem worth while. [_To Caroline_] Don’t cry any more, dear.