_The salon of a house in the country. A July night. At the back
through glass doors you see the garden brilliantly lighted by the
moon. As you look out you have two doors on your right-hand side, and
to your left, in a cross-wall, the door of the bedroom, inside which
part of the bed is visible. The fireplace is to your right. When the
curtain rises Antonin, Courthezon and Caroline are on the stage;
Caroline is doing up a parcel._
ANTONIN. That’s settled, then, M. Courthezon. I’ll write to the
Bordeaux people about your invention this evening.
COURTHEZON. I am greatly obliged to you, M. Antonin. You’ll write this
evening without fail, won’t you? M. Smith is leaving tomorrow.
ANTONIN. Without fail.
COURTHEZON. Shall I post the letter for you on my way through the town?
ANTONIN. Well—it’s rather a difficult letter to write. It’ll take a
little time. Lignol, whom you met at dinner out in the garden, has to
go back tonight. He’ll take it.
COURTHEZON. It’s very good of you.
ANTONIN. And now let’s go and have our coffee.
COURTHEZON. Not for me, thanks. I’m afraid I ought to go by the 8.9
train. I shall be taking some china for Mdlle. Caroline and the
drawings.
ANTONIN. As you please. Good-bye, then.
COURTHEZON. Good-bye, M. Antonin. Thank you again. [_Antonin goes out_].
CAROLINE. I shall not keep you a moment. The parcel is just ready.
COURTHEZON. There is no hurry, mademoiselle. I can take the next train.
It’s of no importance. Indeed I prefer it. It carries third-class
passengers. The fact is I didn’t want to go back to the others. M. and
Madame. Mairaut, M. Lignol, all those people frighten me. Besides, I’m
so happy just now I can think of nothing else.
CAROLINE. M. Antonin is going to do something about your invention?
COURTHEZON. Yes. I have begun negotiations with a business house at
Bordeaux. M. Antonin knows the heads of the firm, and he has been kind
enough to say he will write to them about me. But M. Smith goes away
to-morrow. That was why I was so anxious the letter should go tonight.
CAROLINE [_giving him the parcel which she has just finished_] It’s
very kind of you to take charge of this. I have put the china in it and
the drawings they asked for. You will make my apologies to the firm,
won’t you? I have not been very well.
COURTHEZON. Not well?
CAROLINE. Nothing serious. But the doctor said a little country air
would be good for me, so Julie and her husband asked me here. They have
been very kind. I have been with them a week, and I’m feeling ever so
much better.
COURTHEZON. They would hardly have left you in your lodgings with no
one to look after you. [_Pause_]. What a strange idea it was of yours
to go off and live by yourself like that!
CAROLINE. I thought it better. After Julie’s marriage I preferred it.
COURTHEZON. It must cost more.
CAROLINE [_shrugs_] I daresay. [_Pause_]. You are going to have a
lovely night for your journey. How bright the moon is! One can see as
clearly as if it were broad daylight.
COURTHEZON [_suddenly remembering_] There now! I was just going to
forget! I brought a letter for M. Dupont from the office. It came after
he left. It’s about the printing contract for the Prefecture.
CAROLINE. For the Prefecture. He’ll want to see that directly he comes
in.
COURTHEZON. And now I really must be off. Good-bye, Mlle. Caro.
CAROLINE. Good-bye, M. Courthezon. [_He goes out_].
_After Courthezon’s departure Caroline returns to her seat. She makes
a slight sign of the cross, closes her eyes and sits motionless,
praying silently. After a few seconds she again crosses herself, but
does all this very quietly. Lignol comes in through the glass doors,
giving his arm to Julie. Antonin and M. and Madame Mairaut follow._
ANTONIN. We shall be more comfortable here than in the garden. It’s
getting rather chilly. [_To Lignol_] You can smoke.
LIGNOL. We really could have stayed out quite well.
ANTONIN. And given Julie cold, eh?
JULIE. My dear, I assure you—
ANTONIN. Oh, yes, I know. But you aren’t wrapped up enough. [_He
touches her arm_] In that thin dress you’ve simply nothing on. Just
feel, Lignol, feel.
JULIE [_protesting_] My dear!
MME. MAIRAUT. What a charming frock you have on, my dear. Quite
delightful.
JULIE. It came from Madame Raimond.
MME. MAIRAUT [_to Mairaut_] From Madame Raimond? I thought she made all
her own dresses.
LIGNOL [_to Julie_] You know, madame, that you have not convinced me
yet.
JULIE. Admitting that I am wrong—[_They go towards the garden door with
Antonin, talking_].
MME. MAIRAUT [_to Mairaut_] And _you_ urged on that marriage.
MAIRAUT. I!
MME. MAIRAUT. When she was at home she never went to a dressmaker. And
now! It’s too much. And we shall have the river in here before long.
That wall is bound to go.
MAIRAUT. Do you think so?
MME. MAIRAUT. We shall have the whole house about our ears. And that
fool—
MAIRAUT. What fool?
MME. MAIRAUT. Your son, of course, who has put in electric light.
ANTONIN [_from the garden door, to Lignol_] You didn’t know I’d had
electric light put in. We have lots of water power, you see. I ought to
have turned it on before. Look. [_He touches a button and turns up the
light_].
LIGNOL. That’s better. [_They talk on_].
MME. MAIRAUT. If the river rises another couple of inches down will
come four hundred feet of that wall.
MAIRAUT. It’s not as bad as that.
MME. MAIRAUT. Oh, you have let yourself be nicely done.
MAIRAUT. Come, come.
MME. MAIRAUT. The girl is utterly useless. She can do nothing. And the
house will cost more in repairs than it is worth. When I think I was
idiot enough to listen to you. [_She listens_]. What was that?
MAIRAUT. I hear nothing.
MME. MAIRAUT. The wall! Listen! [_They listen intently_].
JULIE [_coming forward with Lignol and Antonin_] Oh, yes, we’re
comfortable enough here, as you see.
MME. MAIRAUT. Comfortable enough! [_To Mairaut_] Come with me. This
way. I am certain the wall has fallen. If it has we must have a little
talk with the Duponts; and I, for one, shan’t mince matters. [_Turning
to the others_] My husband finds the heat a little too much for him.
We are going for another turn in the garden. Oh, it’s nothing, nothing
at all.
MAIRAUT [_mumbling_] Nothing. Giddy, that’s all.
ANTONIN. Quite right. Get all the fresh air you can while you are in
the country. Don’t be long. We’re expecting visitors, you know.
MME. MAIRAUT. We’ll be back in time. [_Madame Mairaut and Mairaut go
out into the garden_].
ANTONIN. Here, you see, is the staircase which leads to the upstairs
rooms and down to the garden. [_He goes to the door on his left_]. Here
is our bedroom.
JULIE [_in a low voice, so as not to be noticed by Lignol_] Antonin!
ANTONIN [_aloud_] Nonsense, dear. Why not? [_He opens the door. To
Lignol_] Look.
LIGNOL. Charming.
ANTONIN. A real nest, eh? A nest for love-birds. That’s what I call it.
[_To his wife_] Kiss me, dear.
JULIE. But—
ANTONIN. Kiss me. Come.
JULIE [_gently_] But we’re not alone.
ANTONIN. Lignol won’t mind. Eh, Lignol?
LIGNOL [_laughs_] Don’t mention it. You weren’t so shy at dinner.
ANTONIN [_to Julie, smiling_] Come. Wives must obey, you know. [_She
kisses him_]. And now go and see about that beer.
JULIE. Mayn’t I send the servant?
ANTONIN. She doesn’t know where it is. It’s not unpacked yet. [_To
Lignol_] It’s a wedding present. We are going to broach it tonight.
LIGNOL. Not for me. I must go in a moment.
ANTONIN. I wasn’t thinking of you, my dear fellow. You’re a friend.
These formal entertainments are reserved for acquaintances. For the
Pouchelets, in fact. M. Pouchelet has just been elected a Departmental
Councillor. He and his wife are paying their first visit here tonight.
LIGNOL. So late?
ANTONIN. On their way back from the Préfet’s. They are dining there,
and we are near neighbors. They are very well off, very influential.
Useful people altogether. What was I saying? [_To Julie_] Oh yes, the
beer: that girl will never be able to find it. Besides, I’d rather you
went. She would only break the bottles. [_Julie pouts_]. Wives must
obey, you know.
JULIE. Very well. I shall be back before you go, M. Lignol. [_She goes
out_].
CAROLINE [_to Antonin_] You won’t forget the letter for M. Courthezon,
will you, M. Antonin.
ANTONIN. Of course not.
CAROLINE. If you write I feel sure he will succeed.
ANTONIN. Yes, yes, I know.
CAROLINE. I will go to Julie.
ANTONIN. You’d much better go and put on another dress or something.
Just to smarten yourself up. The Pouchelets are coming. We must all
look our best.
CAROLINE [_rather aghast, looking at her clothes_] But—[_A pause_].
Very well. [_She goes out_].
LIGNOL. Who is that lady? She never spoke a word all through dinner.
ANTONIN [_carelessly_] A poor relation. The usual thing, an old
maid, always at church. Awfully prim and proper, you know. [_Rather
shamefaced_] In fact—I don’t mind telling _you_—she really works for
her living.
LIGNOL. Well, why not? There’s nothing dishonorable about that, is
there?
ANTONIN. I know. But still—She paints little Cupids and that kind of
thing, on china. [_He laughs loudly_]. Enough to make you split! You
don’t see it? The other day someone offered her some work far better
paid than what she’s doing at present. She refused. Guess why.
LIGNOL [_bored_] Why?
ANTONIN [_giggling_] Because the woman who kept the shop was divorced.
[_He laughs_]. But it is good to see you again, my dear chap. [_He
claps Lignol on the shoulder_]. Awfully good.
LIGNOL. I’ve enjoyed coming immensely. [_A pause_]. Your wife is
charming.
ANTONIN [_fatuously_] Not bad, eh!
LIGNOL. And she’s clever, too.
ANTONIN. Get out!
LIGNOL. I’m quite serious.
ANTONIN. Oh, yes, I dare say. I know all about _that_. No use denying
it. Julie’s stupid. It was partly for that very reason I married her.
LIGNOL. I don’t think so. She has read a lot.
ANTONIN. Read! Oh, yes, she’s _read_! She reads everything she comes
across. Before her marriage she read the proofs of everything her
father printed. Here she has unearthed a lot of books left behind by an
old fool M. Dupont bought the house from. She’s read them all.
LIGNOL. But then—
ANTONIN. But she doesn’t understand a word of what she reads. Not a
word! The other day I looked at the author’s name on the book in her
hand. It was Mill. You know, John Stuart Mill.
LIGNOL [_nods_] Yes, I know.
ANTONIN. So do I, by name. But I’ve never read him, thank goodness. No,
I tell you Julie’s stupid. But she’s pretty and she knows how to put on
her clothes. I knew what I was about when I married her. With a little
instruction from me she’ll learn to manage the house well enough. And
that’s all I ask of a woman.
LIGNOL. Indeed. Well, my dear chap, if you imagine you’ve married a
stupid woman you’re mistaken.
ANTONIN. How do you know?
LIGNOL. She and I have been talking while you were entertaining your
inventor.
ANTONIN. You got her to talk, did you?
LIGNOL. Certainly.
ANTONIN. Wonders will never cease. When we’re alone she never has a
word to say.
LIGNOL. And you?
ANTONIN. I haven’t either.
LIGNOL. That’s awkward.
ANTONIN. I’m always afraid of putting my foot in it. The fact is I
don’t understand Julie.
LIGNOL. And you’ve been married five months.
ANTONIN. Four months and a week over. But then I’m at business all the
week. Every Saturday her parents and mine come down to spend Sunday
with us. M. and Madame Dupont couldn’t get here in time for dinner
tonight, but they’ll be here soon. When we are alone I try to find some
subject of conversation, but I tell you it’s like walking on eggshells.
Whew! And so—
LIGNOL. Well?
ANTONIN. And so I stop. And then I kiss her.
LIGNOL. You’re tremendously in love with her.
ANTONIN. Yes.
LIGNOL. And she?
ANTONIN. She’s just the same.
LIGNOL. Happy man!
ANTONIN. For the rest we can only wait and see how things turn out. She
knows nothing of my tastes. I know nothing of hers.
LIGNOL. And what did you talk about while you were engaged?
ANTONIN. We were only engaged three weeks. Just long enough to get the
money matters settled.
LIGNOL. You took good care about them, I bet.
ANTONIN. Rather. In fact it was a precious good stroke of business.
[_He laughs_]. If you only knew how we did the Duponts, maman and I!
[_He laughs again_].
LIGNOL. Hush. Here’s your wife. [_Julie comes in, and Lignol rises to
go_]. I am afraid I must be going, madame.
ANTONIN. But my letter for Courthezon. [_He looks at his watch_].
You’ve twenty minutes still.
LIGNOL. You’re sure?
ANTONIN. Certain. Wait a second. I’ll go and write it, and then I’ll
see you to the station. It’s only a step. [_He goes out_].
JULIE. Thanks to you, M. Lignol, we have had a delightful evening.
LIGNOL. You flatter me, dear madame. I know quite well I have been in
the way.
JULIE. On the contrary. I have not had such an evening’s conversation
since I married.
LIGNOL. Antonin isn’t a great talker.
JULIE. You are old friends, aren’t you?
LIGNOL. Yes. I’ve known him fifteen years. We are almost like brothers.
JULIE. Tell me. Is he what you would call a religious man?
LIGNOL. Antonin! [_Bursts out laughing_]. Why, he’s a materialist. Not
much idealism about him.
JULIE. Indeed! Not much idealism! But he’s fond of music? Good music I
mean: Wagner?
LIGNOL. He likes a brass band or a comic opera. [_Julie shows
surprise_]. You are astonished? Oh, I forgot. He plays a little on
the concertina. My dear madame, Antonin is a good chap but thoroughly
matter of fact. Prosaic.
JULIE [_laughing_] You are not very complimentary to your friends.
LIGNOL. What annoys me is that he should possess a treasure like you
and should seem quite unconscious of its value. Ah, when _I_ marry—
JULIE. You are going to marry soon?
LIGNOL. I don’t know. [_Musingly_] If I were to meet a woman like you,
a woman with whom I could discuss everything in heaven and earth,
everything that raises us, makes us higher, then—
JULIE. Look for her. You’ll find her easily enough.
LIGNOL. And beautiful, too. Beautiful as you are. For you _are_
beautiful, you know.
JULIE [_still rallying him_] Are you making love to me by any chance,
M. Lignol?
LIGNOL. If making love to you means yielding to an overmastering
attraction—to a fascination—
JULIE [_laughing_] You certainly make the most of your time as friend
of the family. But I shouldn’t hurry if I were you. You will only be
wasting a lot of pretty speeches which you could employ to greater
advantage elsewhere. I have old-fashioned views on the subject of
marriage.
LIGNOL. Whatever they are I am sure they will be lofty and noble.
JULIE. You are too good. But you are mistaken. My view is commonplace
enough. All I ask of life is that I may love my children and love my
husband.
LIGNOL. Your children?
JULIE [_quite simply, with a touch of emotion_] Above everything my
children. What I am going to say will sound absurd to you, but the day
my first child is born will be the happiest day of my life. So you see,
M. Lignol—
LIGNOL [_insinuatingly_] Dear madame, we shall meet again.
JULIE [_smiling_] As soon as you please.
_Antonin comes in._
ANTONIN. Here’s the letter. You’ll slip it into the post-box, won’t
you? And now we’ve only just time.
LIGNOL. I’m ready [_rising briskly_]. But don’t let me drag you to the
station. You’ll be leaving madame alone.
ANTONIN. That’s all right. Come along. I can see if M. and Madame
Dupont have arrived at the same time.
LIGNOL [_to Julie_] Au revoir, madame. [_To Antonin_] I am sorry not to
say good-bye to mademoiselle. [_Antonin is puzzled_]. To the lady who
dined with us.
ANTONIN. Oh, Caro. I’ll say it for you. No, here she is. [_Caroline
comes in; and, as Lignol is saying good-bye to her, M. and Madame
Dupont appear. Antonin hurriedly introduces_] My friend Lignol. He has
to catch this train.
LIGNOL. So sorry. [_He goes out with Antonin_].
DUPONT. Ah, Caroline. There you are. I have good news for you. Your
aunt is dead. Your aunt in India. She has left all her money to you and
Angèle. Not much. Sixty thousand francs between you. I get nothing, of
course. She never could endure me. My dear girl, what’s the matter?
Come, come, you’re not going to cry because your aunt is dead! You’ve
not seen her for five and twenty years. It’s the greatest stroke of
luck for you. And I shall have all the trouble, as usual! [_A gesture
of dissent from Caroline_]. Oh, yes, I shall. Your sister will have to
come down from Paris.
MME. DUPONT. I thought you said she was in India.
DUPONT. In India! What are you talking about? She is in Paris. She has
never been anywhere except in Paris. What should take her to India?
[_To Caroline_] Your sister Angèle will have to come down from Paris
because part of the money is in land. It will be sold, of course, but
still I shall have to see Angèle. And that will set people talking.
Lots of people don’t even know that I have three daughters. [_To
Julie_] It’s lucky for you this didn’t happen before your marriage,
Julie.
CAROLINE. _Must_ she come, father?
DUPONT. Certainly she must. You must both be present at the lawyer’s
together to sign the documents.
CAROLINE. I will not go the lawyer’s.
DUPONT. If you refuse to go Angèle will not be able to get her legacy,
and she needs it.
CAROLINE. Well, perhaps I will go. I will think it over and consult
someone. I will give you my answer tomorrow.
DUPONT. As you please. And not a word about this, remember, either of
you.
JULIE. Very well, father.
CAROLINE [_taking a letter from the mantelpiece_] Courthezon brought
this letter for you. It is about the printing work for the Prefecture.
DUPONT [_He reads the letter_]. Done, by Jove! Dumoulin gets the
contract! Dumoulin! I expected this. I expected it. Uncle Maréchal
has done it on purpose, curse him! [_To Julie_] How long have I been
telling you you ought to pay him a visit. Have you been? No. And
Antonin? Not he! Nor his father and mother! The old fool is offended,
and this is his revenge. And if this goes on we shall never get a
halfpenny of his money. Why haven’t you been to see him?
JULIE. Antonin’s parents didn’t wish it.
DUPONT. Ah! They didn’t wish it! Well, I have a word or two to say
to Antonin’s parents, you’ll see. _I_ do my duty, _I_ go and call on
Uncle Maréchal myself. _I_ amuse the old idiot, though it’s not the
pleasantest sort of job to have to do. They didn’t wish it! I’ll show
them the kind of man I am! And you—you were fool enough to do what they
told you! I find a husband for you, a far better match than you could
ever have hoped for. I _do_ the Mairauts—
MME. DUPONT [_alarmed, looking round her_] Hush!
DUPONT. Well, haven’t I _done_ the Mairauts?
MME. DUPONT. Yes, yes. But don’t say it so loud.
DUPONT. They aren’t here. And if they were, Julie’s married now.
[_Speaking lower, but with the same fury_] I _do_ the Mairauts—
MME. DUPONT. Are you quite sure?
DUPONT. Am I quite sure? Haven’t I _done_ them? I tell you I’ve done
them _brown_!
_The maid-servant comes in._
SERVANT [_to Julie_] It’s about the beer, madame.
JULIE. I’m coming. Will you come, too, Caro? [_Julie and Caroline go
out_].
DUPONT [_fuming_] Brown, by jove!
MME. DUPONT. Hush. Here they are.
DUPONT. I’m glad to hear it. Now you’ll see.
_M. and Madame Mairaut come in._
MME. MAIRAUT. Ah, you are here. Well, the wall has come down.
DUPONT. I’m not thinking about the wall.
MME. MAIRAUT. Very likely. You haven’t to pay for putting it up again.
DUPONT. I’m not thinking about the wall. I’m thinking of something far
more important. M. and Madame Mairaut, I regret to have to inform you
that you are either deplorably unintelligent or else devoid of all
sense of parental duty.
MME. MAIRAUT. Indeed! So it’s you who propose to insult us just when—
DUPONT. I am a father and I love my children. When their interests are
at stake I have the sense to keep on good terms with those who may be
useful to them later on.
MME. MAIRAUT [_after a moment’s thought_] I see. Uncle Maréchal?
DUPONT. You knew it. You did it on purpose!
MME. MAIRAUT. Uncle Maréchal! [_She bursts out laughing uproariously_].
MAIRAUT. Charlotte. My dear. Don’t laugh like that.
MME. MAIRAUT. Why shouldn’t I laugh? You aren’t going to forbid me, I
suppose, [_looking full at Dupont and laughing more_] nor monsieur.
DUPONT. Well, since you take it like that, I propose to give you _my_
view of the situation. Either you are hopelessly selfish or else you
are hopelessly stupid.
MAIRAUT. Monsieur Dupont!
MME. MAIRAUT. You hold your tongue. Leave me to deal with him.
MME. DUPONT. My dear—
DUPONT. Be silent. Selfish or stupid? Which? [_Madame Mairaut shrugs
her shoulders_]. Is Uncle Maréchal a man with money to leave, or is he
not?
MME. MAIRAUT [_decisively, after a moment’s thought_] He is _not_!
DUPONT [_staggered_] He is not? But—
MME. MAIRAUT. I quite understand, and you have your answer. He is not.
DUPONT. He has not two hundred thousand francs?
MME. MAIRAUT. He had them. Somebody else has them now. He has lost them.
DUPONT. Lost them! If this is true—
MME. MAIRAUT. That is why we don’t waste our time in going to see him.
DUPONT. But—I don’t understand. [_A pause. He controls himself_]. How
long ago did this happen?
MME. MAIRAUT. More than six months ago.
DUPONT. More than six months? Then you knew.
MME. MAIRAUT. Yes, we knew.
DUPONT. And you never told me.
MME. MAIRAUT. You didn’t ask us.
DUPONT. You ought to have informed me. It was dishonest.
MME. MAIRAUT. Monsieur!
DUPONT. You have swindled me.
MME. MAIRAUT. Swindled!
DUPONT. Yes. Swindled.
MME. MAIRAUT. Nonsense. We are as well off as you are, I hope. Our bank
is worth as much as your printing business.
DUPONT. Most people wouldn’t say so. As to that, by the way, I should
like to ask you—
MME. MAIRAUT. No, monsieur. I have nothing further to say to you. And I
am now going to inform my son how you have treated us.
MME. DUPONT. Madame Mairaut!
MME. MAIRAUT. Are you coming, Alfred?
_Mairaut makes a gesture of regret and distress behind his wife’s
back, and then follows her out._
MME. DUPONT. This is terrible.
DUPONT. Eh! [_Pulling himself together_]. No! On reflection I’m
inclined to think it’s the best thing that could have happened. I
regret nothing. Rather the contrary.
MME. DUPONT. I don’t understand.
DUPONT. Naturally! You don’t understand. You will later. [_Julie comes
in_]. We were just speaking of you. I hear your husband’s business is
shaky. Is it?
JULIE. I know nothing about it.
DUPONT. You know, I suppose, whether it is true that he got let in by
the Bourdin failure?
JULIE. No.
DUPONT. Good Heavens! What on earth do you talk about, at meals, and so
on?
JULIE. We don’t talk at all.
DUPONT. Still you must have noticed whether he was anxious and
preoccupied, or whether he was in his usual spirits.
JULIE. I’ve no idea what his usual spirits are. I’ve only known him six
months.
DUPONT. You’d better ask him how things are going at once.
JULIE. What’s the good?
DUPONT. You must ask him. You will have children some day, I suppose?
JULIE [_with a sigh_] If it weren’t for that, I think I should go and
drown myself.
DUPONT. That would be absurd. But we needn’t discuss that now. Only,
if you don’t wish your children to be beggars, keep an eye on your
husband’s business affairs.
JULIE. Very well. I will.
_Antonin comes in._
ANTONIN [_in a tone of mild reproach_] M. Dupont, this is very
annoying. Here are my parents coming to me to complain that you have
called them swindlers. I must say it’s pretty hard on me if I can’t
even spend a Sunday in the country in peace. From the moment you arrive
on Saturday night you begin quarrelling. And now—swindlers! Come, come,
M. Dupont, that’s not the sort of name one calls people, is it? They
are very angry, and I don’t blame them.
DUPONT. Oh, it was really nothing.
ANTONIN. Maman is furious.
DUPONT. That’s absurd of her. You know what it is when people begin
disputing; one word leads to another, and one says things one only half
believes. However, to show how reasonable I am, I will go and make my
apologies to Madame Mairaut. [_To Madame Dupont_] Come, my dear: you
must do the talking.
ANTONIN. If you put yourself in my place, you will see how unpleasant
this kind of thing is.
DUPONT [_with dignity_] Quite so. [_He and Madame Dupont turn towards
the door_].
ANTONIN [_calling them back_] Here are M. and Madame Pouchelet. Wait.
[_He goes to the door and calls to his parents_] Maman! They’re here,
and M. Dupont wants to apologize. It was a misunderstanding, and please
don’t let’s have any quarrelling before visitors. [_To Julie_] Go and
help them to get their things off.
_Julie goes out to welcome the arrivals. M. and Madame Mairaut come
in at the same moment as M. and Madame Pouchelet, Julie helping the
latter to take off their wraps. M. Pouchelet is in evening dress,
Madame Pouchelet in a ball dress._
JULIE. How good of you to come. My husband and I are so delighted.
POUCHELET. I promised your husband we would look in. Otherwise we
should have gone straight home. The Préfet kept us longer than we
wished, and we neither of us like late hours. We can only stay a moment.
MME. MAIRAUT [_pushing forward a chair for Madame Pouchelet_] Won’t you
sit down?
ANTONIN [_to Pouchelet_] Naturally the Préfet was only too glad to get
you to come.
POUCHELET. Yes. There is a scheme on foot for reclassifying the roads
in the Department.
ANTONIN [_with an assumption of great interest_] Really!
MME. MAIRAUT [_following suit_] Reclassifying the roads. Most
interesting.
ANTONIN. It is a matter of the greatest importance. And you, of course,
are the very man to give him the necessary information.
POUCHELET [_pompously_] I flatter myself I do know something of the
subject.
DUPONT. It is a question I have also had a great deal to do with.
Twelve years ago I printed—
POUCHELET. I intend to make—
DUPONT. No; it was thirteen—
MME. MAIRAUT [_to her husband_] Listen, dear: M. Pouchelet is speaking.
MAIRAUT. Yes, yes; I am listening.
POUCHELET. I intend to make an important speech on the subject at the
Council. But you will read the report in the papers.
ANTONIN. I should think so. We must not miss that, Julie, must we?
POUCHELET. Oh, madame, I’m afraid my speech is not likely to interest
you.
ANTONIN. On the contrary. My wife only likes reading about serious
subjects. Why the other day I found her reading—who was it? that
English writer: what was his name, dearest?
JULIE. Never mind.
ANTONIN [_going over to Julie, summing up her points_] She’s a
wonderful little woman, my wife. Aren’t you, dearest? You aren’t
cold, are you? I am always telling you you don’t wrap up enough. [_To
Pouchelet_] She is charming, isn’t she? And the most devoted wife! [_To
Julie_] Aren’t you a devoted wife, dear?
MME. MAIRAUT. Antonin, aren’t you going to offer M. and Madame
Pouchelet a little refreshment?
ANTONIN. Of course. [_To his wife_] Will you ring?
_Julie rings the bell. The maid comes in almost at once with bottles
of beer on a tray, and glasses._
JULIE [_to the maid_] Put it there.
ANTONIN [_to Madame Pouchelet_] My wife is a wonderful manager. We are
really hardly settled in here. Yet everything is always ready directly
one wants it. May I give you a glass of beer?
_The glasses which Julie has poured out are handed round. Caroline
comes in._
DUPONT. M. Pouchelet, allow me to present to you my second daughter,
Caroline.
POUCHELET [_bows_] Madame.
ANTONIN [_correcting him_] Mademoiselle. Mlle. Caroline has always
refused to marry. She prefers to devote her life to her art.
MME. POUCHELET. You are an artist, mademoiselle? How delightful. I
adore artists.
CAROLINE. I only paint a little on china.
ANTONIN. And she does it most beautifully.
POUCHELET. You must send something to our local exhibition.
ANTONIN. Excellent! M. Pouchelet is right. Why have you never sent
anything?
CAROLINE. I only paint china plates, knick-knacks and so on.
ANTONIN. Just for your own amusement. [_To Pouchelet_] My sister-in-law
just does it to amuse herself. But I am sure if she took the trouble—
CAROLINE. But I don’t do it to amuse myself.
MME. MAIRAUT. Oh, yes, you do.
ANTONIN. Merely to amuse yourself.
DUPONT. Just for your own amusement.
ANTONIN. And the artist can put just as much of his art into small
subjects. Look at Meissonier.
MME. POUCHELET. Of course. They give just as great scope for the
imagination.
CAROLINE. But I only copy what the people at the shop send me.
MME. MAIRAUT. Another glass of beer, Madame Pouchelet? It is French
beer and can’t—
MME. POUCHELET. Not just now, thank you. [_To Caroline_] The shop
people, mademoiselle?
CAROLINE. Yes, madame, the people who keep the shop I work for. They
pay me quite good wages for what I do.
MME. POUCHELET. I see. [_A silence_].
ANTONIN [_sotto voce, taking Caroline a glass of beer_] Be silent,
can’t you?
CAROLINE [_to him, puzzled_] What is it?
ANTONIN [_to Madame Pouchelet, leading her up to a picture_] Madame
Pouchelet, you understand pictures, I know. What do you think of this?
I paid a long price for it. [_They go on talking_].
CAROLINE [_to Madame Mairaut, in a low voice_] Have I done anything I
shouldn’t?
MME. MAIRAUT [_drily_] Oh no! Far from it! [_She rises and goes over to
Madame Pouchelet_].
MME. POUCHELET [_coming down stage with Antonin_] I don’t care much
about pictures unless they tell a story. What is that one about?
JULIE. It is an engraving of a picture by Gerard Dow.
MME. POUCHELET. Never heard of him.
JULIE. He was a Dutch painter. Seventeenth century.
MME. POUCHELET. Really. But of course you know more about these things
than I do. A propos, M. Dupont, did you go to the lecture the other day
on women’s rights?
POUCHELET [_laughing_] Oh, yes, ha! ha!
MME. POUCHELET [_to Julie_] I shouldn’t be surprised if you, madame,
had some sympathy with such opinions?
JULIE [_evasively_] I don’t know.
ANTONIN [_laughing_] Come, confess, my dear. Just a little, perhaps?
MME. MAIRAUT. Woman the equal of man!
JULIE [_mildly_] Why not?
MAIRAUT. There are some women who wouldn’t gain much by that.
MME. DUPONT. But not all.
DUPONT. Women lawyers!
MME. POUCHELET. Women doctors!
POUCHELET. Women with votes!
ANTONIN [_laughing_] What a joke.
DUPONT [_laughing_] Women with votes!
POUCHELET. I call that rich. [_All three are convulsed with merriment_].
DUPONT. Think of it. Women in the Chamber of Deputies!
ANTONIN. Women Senators!
POUCHELET. Women in the Ministry!
DUPONT. In the Chamber they would want to keep their hats on.
POUCHELET. Yes [_to Julie_]. Eh, Madame Mairaut? They’d insist on
keeping on their hats as they do at the theatres.
MME. POUCHELET. And at election times they’d go from house to house
asking for votes. The modern women would enjoy that.
POUCHELET. And this parliament elected by women, what would it be like?
[_More laughter_]. A Chamber of Deputies chosen by women!
JULIE [_a little annoyed_] Really, gentlemen, judging by the results
you’ve achieved so far by keeping the government to yourselves I don’t
think you need fear that women will do much worse. [_The laughter dies
down uneasily_].
POUCHELET [_with pompous solemnity_] I know it is the fashion nowadays
to decry all our elective assemblies. But, as I am myself, in my humble
way, one of the people’s representatives, I cannot allow such views to
pass without protest. [_An awful silence_].
JULIE [_apologizing_] I had no intention of saying anything that could
wound you, M. Pouchelet.
MME. POUCHELET. We are sure of that, dear madame.
POUCHELET [_to his wife_] And now, my dear, it is time for us to be
going.
ANTONIN. You must forgive my wife’s little slip, dear monsieur.
POUCHELET. It is nothing—nothing at all.
ANTONIN. You mustn’t go like this. Another glass of beer?
MME. POUCHELET. You are very good. It has been so close to-day.
ANTONIN. Julie, a glass of beer for Madame Pouchelet. [_To her_] Yes;
the heat this afternoon has been quite oppressive. [_To Julie_] Where’s
that beer?
JULIE [_who has tried the various bottles, confused_] I will send for
some more. These are empty.
ANTONIN. Really!
MME. POUCHELET. Oh, please don’t trouble. Please. No; you really must
not. We can have something when we get home. [_Going_] Our things are
here, I think.
JULIE. Let me help you.
ANTONIN. I will come and put you on your way.
POUCHELET [_declining_] Thank you, monsieur. We know the way.
_M. and Madame Pouchelet bow formally and coldly to each in turn and
go out: Julie goes with them. There is a silence. Antonin paces the
room irritably. Madame Mairaut grins._
DUPONT [_to his wife, in a low voice, after glancing at the others_] I
think it’s time we went to bed.
MME. DUPONT. Very well, dear.
_Formal bows, Monsieur, Madame, are exchanged. The Duponts go out and
Julie returns._
ANTONIN [_his arms folded, sternly_] So there was no more beer.
JULIE. No, dear.
ANTONIN. It’s intolerable.
JULIE. Here are the three bottles. You told me to buy three bottles.
There they are.
ANTONIN. Nonsense. You make me ridiculous. I press Madame Pouchelet to
have another glass and there isn’t one. It’s preposterous.
JULIE. It is not my fault.
ANTONIN. I suppose you think it’s mine.
MME. MAIRAUT. Evidently.
ANTONIN. Besides, I have no recollection of saying three bottles.
JULIE. I assure you.
ANTONIN. I have no recollection whatever of it. On the contrary, I am
certain I said buy four or five.
JULIE. No. Three.
ANTONIN. You make me look like a fool. These people will think I was
laughing at them. You make me look like a fool, and that is a thing I
won’t have.
CAROLINE. M. Antonin, I was there when you spoke to Julie. You did say
three bottles.
ANTONIN. My dear Caroline, I love you very much, but I can’t help
pointing out to you that the best possible way to aggravate a dispute
between husband and wife is to interfere in it either on one side or on
the other. If you don’t realize that already, you may take it from me.
MME. MAIRAUT. If you spoke less, mademoiselle, it would certainly be
better for all parties.
CAROLINE. Why? What have I said?
ANTONIN. Among other things you might refrain from proclaiming on the
housetops that you are reduced to working for your living.
CAROLINE. There is nothing dishonorable in that.
MME. MAIRAUT. Very likely. But one doesn’t talk about it.
ANTONIN. I thought every moment you were going to ask M. Pouchelet for
an order. Not very pleasant for us, that.
CAROLINE. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. [_She begins
to cry_]. But I’m so unfortunate. I always make mistakes.
ANTONIN [_irritably_] Oh, for goodness sake, my dear Caroline, don’t
begin to cry. There’s no earthly good in that.
MME. MAIRAUT. There’s really nothing to cry about.
JULIE [_going to her_] Caroline. Don’t cry, dear. [_She takes her
away_].
MME. MAIRAUT. Now, my son, we are going to say good-night.
ANTONIN. Good-night. [_He kisses her absently_].
MME. MAIRAUT. You’re not angry with us, dear, are you? You wanted to
marry Julie, you know. Good-night.
_M. and Madame Mairaut go out. Antonin, left alone, goes to the bell
and rings it. The maid comes in._
ANTONIN [_to the servant_] Put out the lights. You can leave the two on
the mantelpiece. Close those shutters. [_The maid does so and goes out.
Julie returns_]. I have something to say to you.
JULIE. I am listening.
ANTONIN. I do not wish Caroline to remain with us any longer.
JULIE. Why? What has she done?
ANTONIN. You know well enough.
JULIE. No, I do not.
ANTONIN. She gets on my nerves.
JULIE. Explain, please.
ANTONIN. It is not my business to give explanations. I am the master in
my own house. I shall be obliged if you will arrange with Caroline to
bring her visit to a close on Monday.
JULIE. But she was to stay till the end of the month. She will want to
know why. What am I to say to her?
ANTONIN. Whatever you please.
JULIE. She will be hurt.
ANTONIN. I don’t care about that.
JULIE. But I do care.
ANTONIN. If you won’t tell her I will, in a way which won’t admit of
any misunderstanding.
JULIE. She will be angry.
ANTONIN. Let her.
JULIE. But if you two quarrel where shall I be able to see her? Here?
ANTONIN. No. I forbid you to do so.
JULIE. Have you the right to forbid me?
ANTONIN. Certainly.
JULIE. Why?
ANTONIN. Once more, because I am master here: because the husband is
the master in his own house.
JULIE. That was not what you told me while we were engaged.
ANTONIN. I dare say.
JULIE. You have nothing more to say to me?
ANTONIN. Yes; I have.
JULIE. Well?
ANTONIN. When you have opinions of the outrageous description you gave
vent to this evening, please keep them to yourself.
JULIE. Haven’t I the right to have opinions?
ANTONIN. Nonsense. Once for all, I have made up my mind that you shall
obey me and not spoil my prospects. M. and Madame Pouchelet are people
of importance. They might be useful to me, and if you offend them
with your absurdities you will be wanting in your duty. Marriage is a
business partnership.
JULIE. Then I want to see the accounts. They say you are doing badly at
the bank. Is that true?
ANTONIN. Women know nothing about such things. You look after your
household and leave the rest to me. Under the terms of our marriage the
management of our affairs is in my hands. I manage them to the best of
my ability. That is all I have to say to you.
JULIE. In other words, I am a business partner who has to keep her eyes
shut and say nothing.
ANTONIN. My dear, it’s quite useless starting the lecture about women’s
rights all over again. I heard it the other evening. Leave that sort
of thing to old maids with beards. If I were willing to listen to you,
you’d reel off the whole catalogue of grievances against the laws which
make women slaves. I know.
JULIE. No: it is not a question of law. It is a question of social
usage. [_A pause_]. What is wrong is not that there is such and such a
provision in the Code. The real evil is that our parents married us as
they did marry us.
ANTONIN. They did as most parents do.
JULIE. And so most marriages are unhappy.
ANTONIN. If you really loved me—
JULIE. But I don’t love you. That is just the point. And you don’t love
me. And here we are chained to one another.
ANTONIN. Nonsense. I not love you?
JULIE. No, indeed. You don’t love me.
ANTONIN. Come, come, you are talking foolishly. It’s late. Let’s go to
bed. Things will be all right to-morrow morning. [_He goes into the
bedroom_].
JULIE [_sits staring in front of her for awhile: then she says to
herself_] No: things will never be all right. Never. Never.
ANTONIN [_calls_] Are you coming, Julie? [_Julie starts as if she had
been dreaming. She looks round her in a dazed way_]. Come along.
JULIE [_with a deep sigh, her face showing a mingled expression of
profound disgust and sorrowful resignation_] I am coming. [_She goes
slowly towards the door of the bedroom_].