LUCIENNE. Not us. Flirting is an amusement, a distraction, a game.
LUCIENNE. There's not a single one of us who doesn't understand the importance of running straight. And, to do them justice, these boys have no idea of tempting us to do anything else. What they want, what we all really want, is a quite conventional, satisfactory marriage.
FÉLIAT. I most heartily approve; but in my days so much wisdom didn't usually come from such fascinating little mouths.
THÉRÈSE. Now how can you blame us when you see that really we think exactly as you do yourself?
FÉLIAT. In my days girls went neither to the Lycée nor to have gymnastic lessons, and they were none the less straight.
LUCIENNE [_reflectively_] And yet they grew up into the women of to-day. I get educated and try to keep myself healthy, with exercises and things, because I want to develop morally and physically, and be fit to marry a man a little bit out of the ordinary either in fortune or brains.
THÉRÈSE. You see our whole lives depend upon the man we marry.
FÉLIAT. I seem to have heard that before.
LUCIENNE. Yes; so've I. But it's none the less true for that.
THÉRÈSE. Isn't it funny that we seem to be saying the most shocking things when we're only repeating what our grandfathers and grandmothers preached to their children?
LUCIENNE. They were quite right. Love doesn't make happiness by itself. One has to consider the future. We do consider it; in fact we do nothing else but consider it. We want to get the best position for ourselves in the future that we possibly can. We're not giddy little fools, and we're not selfish egotists. We want our children to grow up happy and capable as we've done ourselves. We're really quite reasonable.
FÉLIAT [_hardly able to contain himself_] You are; indeed you are. It makes one shudder. Excuse me, I'm going to supper.
LUCIENNE. It's down that passage to the right.
LUCIENNE. I only flavored the truth just enough to make it tasty. But I've something frightfully important to tell you. It's settled.
LUCIENNE. It's done. Armand has been to his people and they've come to see mine. So I needn't play any more piano, nor sing any more sentimental songs; I needn't be clever any more, nor flirt any more, nor languish at young men any more. And how do you suppose it was settled? Just what one wouldn't have ever expected. You know my people were doing all they could to dress me up, and show me off, and seem to be richer than they are, so as to attract the men. On my side I was giving myself the smartest of airs and pretending to despise money and to think of nothing but making a splash. Everything went quite differently from what I expected. I wanted to attract Armand, and I was only frightening him off. He thought such a woman as I was pretending to be too expensive. It was just through a chance conversation, some sudden confidence on my part, that he found out that I really like quite simple things. He was delighted, and he proposed at once.