angry?

SCA. Quite so. I was angry myself when I first heard it; and I so far
felt interested in your behalf that I rated your son well. Just ask
him the fine sermons I gave him, and how I lectured him about the
little respect he showed his father, whose very footsteps he ought to
kiss. You could not yourself talk better to him. But what of that? I
submitted to reason, and considered that, after all, he had done
nothing so dreadful.

ARG. What are you telling me? He has done nothing so dreadful? When
he goes and marries straight off a perfect stranger?

SCA. What can one do? he was urged to it by his destiny.

ARG. Oh, oh! You give me there a fine reason. One has nothing better
to do now than to commit the greatest crime imaginable--to cheat,
steal, and murder--and give for an excuse that we were urged to it by
destiny.

SCA. Ah me! You take my words too much like a philosopher. I mean to
say that he was fatally engaged in this affair.

ARG. And why did he engage in it?

SCA. Do you expect him to be as wise as you are? Can you put an old
head on young shoulders, and expect young people to have all the
prudence necessary to do nothing but what is reasonable? Just look at
our Leandre, who, in spite of all my lessons, has done even worse
than that. I should like to know whether you yourself were not young