GUeRET. Then it is I who do not understand.

THeReSE. All the same--[_A silence_]

MADAME GUeRET. I can hardly believe that you propose to live in Paris by yourself.

THeReSE [_simply_] I do, G.o.dmamma.

FeLIAT. Alone!

GUeRET. Alone! I repeat, I don't understand.

FeLIAT. Nor do I. But no doubt you have reasons to give to your G.o.dfather and G.o.dmother. [_He moves to go_]

THeReSE. There's no secret about my reasons. All the world may know them. When I've explained you'll see that it's all right.

MADAME GUeRET. I must confess to being extremely curious to hear these reasons.

THeReSE. I do hope my decision won't make you angry with me.

MADAME GUeRET. Angry! When have I ever been angry with you?

THeReSE [_protesting_] You've both been--you've all three been--_most_ good and kind to me, and I shall always remember it and be grateful. You may be sure I shan't love you any the less because I shall live in Paris and you at Evreux. And I do beg of you to feel the same to me. I shall never forget what I owe to you. Father was only your friend; we're not related in any way: but you took me in, and for four years you've treated me as if I was your daughter. From my very heart I'm grateful to you.

GUeRET [_affectionately_] You don't owe us much, you know. For two years you were a boarder at the Lycee Maintenon, and we saw nothing of you but your letters. You've only actually lived with us for two years, and you've been like sunshine in the house.

MADAME GUeRET. Yes, indeed.

THeReSE. I've thought this carefully over. I'm twenty-three. I won't be a burden to you any longer.

GUeRET. Is that because you are too proud and independent?

THeReSE. If I thought I could really be of use to you, I would stay with you. If I could help you to face your troubles, I would stay with you.

But I can't, and I mean to shift for myself.

MADAME GUeRET. And you think you can "shift for yourself," as you call it, all alone?

THeReSE. Yes, G.o.dmamma.

MADAME GUeRET. A young girl, all alone, in Paris! The thing is inconceivable.

GUeRET. But, my poor child, how do you propose to live?

THeReSE. I'll work.

MADAME GUeRET. You don't mean that seriously?

THeReSE. Yes, G.o.dmamma.

GUeRET. You think you have only to ask for work and it will fall from the skies!

THeReSE. I have a few dollars in my purse which will keep me until I have found something.

FeLIAT. Your purse will be empty before you've made a cent.

THeReSE. I'm sure it won't.

GUeRET. Now, my dear, you're tired, and nervous, and upset. You can't look at things calmly. We can talk about this again to-morrow.

THeReSE. Yes, G.o.dpapa. But I shan't have changed my mind.

MADAME GUeRET. I know you have a strong will of your own.

FeLIAT. Let us talk sensibly and reasonably. You propose to live all alone in Paris. Good. Where will you live?

THeReSE. I shall hire a little flat--or a room somewhere.

MADAME GUeRET. Like a workgirl.

THeReSE. Like a workgirl. There's nothing to be ashamed of in that.

FeLIAT. And you are going to earn your own living. How?

THeReSE. I shall work. There's nothing to be ashamed of in that, either.

GUeRET. I see. But a properly brought up young lady doesn't work for her living if she can possibly avoid it.

MADAME GUeRET. And above all, a properly brought up young lady doesn't live all alone.

THeReSE. All the same--

MADAME GUeRET. You are perfectly free. There's no doubt about that. We have no power to prevent you from doing exactly as you choose.

GUeRET. But your father left you in my care.

THeReSE. Please, G.o.dmamma, don't be hard upon me. I feel you think I'm ungrateful, though you don't say so. I know that often and often I shall long for your kindness and for the home where you've given me a place.

I've shocked you. Do please forgive me. I'm made like that, and made differently from you. I don't say you're not right; I only say I'm different. Certain ideas have come to me from being educated at the Lycee and from all these books I've read. I think I'm able to earn my own living, and so I look upon it as my bounden duty not to trespa.s.s upon your charity. It's a question of personal dignity. Don't you think that I'm right, G.o.dfather? [_With a change of tone_] Besides, if I did go to Evreux with you, what should I do there?

GUeRET. It's pretty easy to guess.

MADAME GUeRET. Yes, indeed.

GUeRET. You would live with us.

MADAME GUeRET [_not very kindly_] You would have a home.

THeReSE. Yes, yes, I know all that; and it would be a great happiness.

But what should I _do_?

GUeRET. You would do what all well brought up young girls in your position do.