_Célie_--My father has ordered me to come to you.

_Clorinde_--Ordered you? Did you need an order? Are we really on such
terms? Tell me, do you think I do not love you, that you should look
upon me as your enemy? Dear, if you could read my heart you would find
there the tenderest attachment.

_Célie_--I do not know whether you are sincere, Madame. I hope that you
are not, for it distresses one to be loved by those--

_Clorinde_--Whom one does not love? They must have painted me black
indeed, that you are so reluctant to believe in my friendship.

_Célie_--They have told me--what I have heard, thanks to you, Madame,
was not fit for my young ears. This interview is cruel--Please let me--

_Clorinde_--No, no! Stay, Mademoiselle. For this interview, painful to
us both, nevertheless concerns us both.

_Célie_--I am not your judge, Madame.

_Clorinde_--Nevertheless you do judge me, and severely! Yes, my life has
been blameworthy; I confess it. But you know nothing of its temptations.
How should you know, sweet soul, to whom life is happy and goodness
easy? Child, you have your family to guard you. You have happiness to
keep watch and ward for you. How should you know what poverty whispers
to young ears on cold evenings! You, who have never been hungry, how
should you understand the price that is asked for a mouthful of bread?

_Célie_--I don't know the pleadings of poverty, but one need not listen