I've only to tell
him the truth for him to know you as a cheat and liar. [She goes to
speak; again he silences her.] You listen to me. You've seen fit to
use strong language; now I'm using strong language. This BOY, who
has married you in a moment of impulse, what does HE know about the
sort of wife a man in his position needs? What do YOU? made to sing
for your living on the Paris boulevards--whose only acquaintance with
the upper classes has been at shady restaurants.
FANNY. He didn't WANT a woman of his own class. He told me so. It
was because I wasn't a colourless, conventional puppet with a book of
etiquette in place of a soul that he was first drawn towards me.
BENNET. Yes. At twenty-two, boys like unconventionality. Men
don't: they've learnt its true name, vulgarity. Do you think I've
stood behind English society for forty years without learning
anything about it! What you call a colourless puppet is what WE call
an English lady. And that you've got to learn to be. You talk of
"lackeys." If your mother, my poor sister Rose, came from a family
of "lackeys" there would be no hope for you. With her blood in your
veins the thing can be done. We Bennets--[he draws himself up]--we
serve. We are not lackeys.
FANNY. All right. Don't you call my father an organ-grinder, and I
won't call you lackeys. Unfortunately that doesn't end the trouble.
BENNET. The trouble can easily be ended.
FANNY. Yes.
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