I do not wish to deceive you; I was afraid you would resent that
Lucile has committed a fault with my son; and as you are powerful, have
wealth and friends...
ALB. Hey! what do you say of faults and Lucile?
POL. Enough, let us not enter into a useless conversation. I own my son
is greatly to blame; nay, if that will satisfy you, I will admit that he
alone is at fault; that your daughter was too virtuous, and would never
have taken a step so derogatory to honour, had she not been prevailed
upon by a wicked seducer; that the wretch has betrayed her innocent
modesty, and thus frustrated all your expectations. But since the thing
is done, and my prayers have been granted, since we are both at peace
and amity, let it be buried in oblivion, and repair the offence by the
ceremony of a happy alliance.
ALB. (_Aside_). Oh, Heavens! what a mistake I have been under! What
do I hear? I get from one difficulty into another as great. I do not
know what to answer amidst these different emotions; if I say one word,
I am afraid of betraying myself.
POL. What are you thinking of, Signor Albert?
ALB. Of nothing. Let us put off our conversation for a while, I pray
you. I have become suddenly very unwell, and am obliged to leave you.
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