JULIE. And there’s nothing but misery for girls who have no money. DUPONT. It’s not quite as bad as that. But obviously there is a better choice for those who have a good fortune. JULIE [_bitterly_] And the others must be content with damaged goods, much reduced in price! DUPONT. There are exceptions, of course. But, as a rule, husbands are like anything else. If you want a good article, you must be prepared to pay for it. MME. DUPONT. And, even so, one is often cheated. DUPONT. Possibly. But M. Antonin Mairaut is a very eligible young man. No? What do you want, then, in Heaven’s name? If you are waiting for a royal prince, say so. Are you waiting for a prince? Answer me. Come, my child, this is an opportunity you may never see again: a young man, well brought up, with an uncle who is head clerk at the Prefecture and can double my profits by putting the contract for printing in my way, not to speak of other things. And you raise difficulties! MME. DUPONT. Think, dear. You are four-and-twenty. DUPONT. And you have had the astonishing good luck to captivate this young fellow—at a ball, it seems. JULIE. I believe so. He wanted to kiss me in one of the passages. I had to put him in his place. MME. DUPONT. You were quite right. DUPONT. I don’t say she wasn’t—that is, if she didn’t overdo it. In his case I’m sure it was only playfulness. MME. DUPONT. Oh, of course. JULIE. I only half like him, father. DUPONT. Well, if you half like him, that’s always something. Plenty of people marry without even that. MME. DUPONT. You don’t dislike him, do you, Julie? JULIE. No. DUPONT [_triumphantly_] Well, then! JULIE. That’s hardly enough, is it? DUPONT. Come, come, my dear, we must talk seriously. As a child you were full of romantic notions. Thank Heaven, I cured you of that weakness. You know well enough that unhappy marriages are, more often than not, love marriages. JULIE [_unconvinced_] I know, I know. Still, I want to have a husband who loves me. DUPONT. But he _does_ love you, doesn’t he, since you’ve only just told us that he wanted to kiss you at a ball. JULIE. I want to be something more than my husband’s plaything. DUPONT. You’ll lead your husband by the nose, never fear. JULIE. How do you know? DUPONT. Never you mind. I know it. And now really we have had enough of this. You think that a whim of yours is to upset all my plans, prevent me from increasing my printing business and retiring next year, as we intended, your mother and I. You think we haven’t—I haven’t—worked enough, I suppose. You don’t wish us to have a little rest before we die? You think I have not earned that rest, perhaps? Answer me! You think I have not earned it? JULIE. Of course you have, father.