DURAND. Six hundred francs if I sell it, and five thousand if I die. [Thérèse concerned.] Now, tell me, my child,—we mustn't be needlessly cruel,—tell me, Thérèse, are you so attached to Antonio that you would be quite unhappy if you didn't get him?
THÉRÈSE. Oh, yes!
DURAND. Then you must marry him if he really loves you. But you mustn't be unkind to him, for then you'll be unhappy. Good-bye, my dear beloved child. [Takes her in his arms and kisses her cheeks.]
THÉRÈSE. But you mustn't die, father, you mustn't.
DURAND. Would you grudge me going to my peace?
THÉRÈSE. No, not if you wish it yourself. Forgive me, father, the many, many times I've been unkind to you.
DURAND. Nonsense, my child.
THÉRÈSE. But no one was so unkind to you as I.
DURAND. I felt it less because I loved you most. Why, I don't know. But run and shut the windows.
THÉRÈSE. Here are your matches, papa—and there's your milk.