Chapter IV: Part 4

MARCEL [_gayly_]. A duel? To-day? You're not serious?

MADELEINE. I think he wants to kill you.

MARCEL. But that affair was three years ago! Why, to begin with, he hasn't the right!

MADELEINE. Because it was so long ago?

MARCEL. Three years is three years.

MADELEINE. You're right: _now_ you are not in love with his wife: you love your own. Time has changed everything. Now your own happiness is all-sufficient. I can easily understand your indignation against my husband.

MARCEL. Oh, I--

MADELEINE. My husband is slow, but he's sure, isn't he?

MARCEL. You're cruel, Madeleine.

MADELEINE. If it's ancient history for you, it's only too recent for him!

MARCEL. Let's not speak about him!

MADELEINE. But he ought to be a very interesting topic of conversation just now!

MARCEL. I hadn't foreseen his feeling so keenly.

MADELEINE. You must tell him how sorry you are when you see him.

MARCEL. At the duel?

MADELEINE. Elsewhere!

MARCEL. Where? Here, in my house?

MADELEINE. My dear, he may want to tell you how he feels.

[_A pause._]

MARCEL [_aside, troubled_]. The devil! And Francoise? [_Another pause._] Oh, a duel! Well, I ought to risk my life for you; you have done the same thing for me many times.

MADELEINE. Oh, I was not so careful as you were then.

MARCEL. You are not telling me everything, Madeleine. What put it into your husband's head to look through your papers?

MADELEINE. Ah!

MARCEL. Well, evidently _I_ couldn't have excited his jealousy. For a long time he has had no reason to suspect me! Were they my letters he was looking for?

MADELEINE. That is my affair!

MARCEL. Then I am expiating for some one else?

MADELEINE. I'm afraid so.

MARCEL. Perfect!

MADELEINE. Forgive me!

MARCEL [_reproachfully_]. So you are deceiving him?

MADELEINE. You are a perfect friend to-day!

MARCEL. Then you really have a lover?

MADELEINE. A second lover! That would be disgraceful, wouldn't it?

MARCEL. The first step always brings the worst consequences.

MADELEINE. What are you smiling at?

MARCEL. Oh, the happiness of others! Well, let's have no bitterness.

MADELEINE. No, you might feel remorse!

MARCEL. Oh, Madeleine, why am I not the guilty one this time? You are always so beautiful!

MADELEINE. Your fault! You should have kept what you had!

MARCEL. I thought you were tired of me.

MADELEINE. You will never know what I suffered; I cried like an abandoned shopgirl!

MARCEL. Not for long, though?

MADELEINE. Three months. When I think I once loved you so much, and here I am before you so calm and indifferent! You look like anybody else now. How funny, how disgusting life is! You meet some one, do no end of foolish and wicked and mean things in order to belong to him, and the day comes when you don't know one another. Each takes his turn! I think it would have been better--[_Gesture from Marcel._] Yes--I ought to try to forget everything.

MARCEL. That's all buried in the past! Wasn't it worth the trouble, and the suffering we have to undergo now?

MADELEINE. You, too! You have to recall--!

MARCEL. I'm sorry, but I didn't begin this conversation.

MADELEINE. Never mind! It's all over, let's say no more about it!

MARCEL. No, please! Let's--curse me, Madeleine say anything you like about me: I deserve it all!

MADELEINE. Stop! Behave yourself, married man! What if your wife heard you!

MARCEL. She? Dear child! She is much too afraid of what I might say to listen.

MADELEINE. Dear child! You cynic! I'll wager you have not been a model husband since your marriage!

MARCEL. You are mistaken this time, my dear.

MADELEINE. You are lying!

MARCEL. Seriously; and I'm more surprised than you at the fact--but it's true.

MADELEINE. Poor Marcel!

MARCEL. I do suffer!

MADELEINE. Then you are a faithful husband?

MARCEL. I am frivolous and--compromising--that is all.

MADELEINE. It's rather funny: you seem somehow to be ready to belong to some one!

MARCEL. Madeleine, you are the first who has come near tempting me.

MADELEINE. Is it possible?

MARCEL. I feel myself weakening.

MADELEINE. Thank you so much for thinking of me, dear; I appreciate it, but for the time being, I'll--consider.

MARCEL. Have you made up your mind?

MADELEINE. We shall see later; I'll think it over--perhaps! Yet, I rather doubt if--. You haven't been nice to me to-day, your open honest face hasn't pleased me at all. You're so carelessly dressed! I don't think you're interesting any more. No, I hardly think so!

MARCEL. But, Madeleine--

MADELEINE. Don't call me Madeleine.

MARCEL. Madame Guerin! Madame Guerin! if I told you how much your note meant to me! How excited I was! I trembled when I read it!

MADELEINE. I'll warrant you read it before your wife?

MARCEL. It was so charming of you!

MADELEINE. How depraved you are!

MARCEL. How well you know me!

MADELEINE. Fool!

MARCEL. I adore you!

MADELEINE. That's merely a notion of yours! You imagine, since you haven't seen me for so long--I've just come back from a long trip!

MARCEL. Don't shake my faith in you!

MADELEINE. Think of your duties, my dear; don't forget--

MARCEL. My children? I have none.

MADELEINE. Your wife.

MARCEL [_in desperation_]. You always speak of her!

MADELEINE. Love her, my friend, and if my husband doesn't kill you to-morrow, continue to love her in peace and quiet. You are made for a virtuous life now--any one can see that. I flatter you when I consider you a libertine. You've been spoiled by too much happiness, that's the trouble with you!

MARCEL [_trying to kiss her_]. Madeleine, if you only--!

MADELEINE [_evading him_]. Are you out of your wits?

MARCEL. Forgive me: I haven't quite forgotten! Well, if I am killed it will be for a good reason.

MADELEINE. Poor dear!

MARCEL. It will! This duel is going to compromise you fearfully. Come now, every one will accuse you to-morrow; what difference does it make to you?

MADELEINE. I'm not in the mood!

MARCEL. Now _you_ are lying!

MADELEINE. I don't love you.

MARCEL. Nonsense! You're sulking!

MADELEINE. How childish! Don't touch me! You want me to be unfaithful to everybody! Never! [_Changing._] Yet--! No; it would be too foolish! Good-by.

MARCEL [_kissing her as she tries to pass him_]. Not before--

MADELEINE. Oh, you've mussed my hat; how awkward of you! [_Trying to escape from Marcel's embrace._] Let me go!

MARCEL [_jokingly_]. Let you go? In a few days!

MADELEINE. Good-by. My husband may come any moment.

MARCEL. Are you afraid?

MADELEINE. Yes, I'm afraid he might forgive me!

MARCEL. One minute more!

MADELEINE. No! I have just time. I'm going away this evening--

MARCEL. Going away?

MADELEINE. To London.

MARCEL. With--_him_, the other?

MADELEINE. I hope so.

MARCEL. Who knows? He may be waiting for you this moment at Madame de Montglat's, your aunt's--

MADELEINE. They are playing cards together.

MARCEL. The way we are! What a family!

MADELEINE. Impudent!

MARCEL. That's why you came.

MADELEINE [_about to leave_]. Shall I go out through the models' door, as I used to?

MARCEL. If I were still a bachelor you wouldn't leave me this way! You would miss your train this evening, I'll tell you that!

MADELEINE. You may very well look at that long sofa! No, no, my dear: not to-day, thanks!

MARCEL. In an hour, then, at Madame de Montglat's!

MADELEINE. Take care, or I'll make you meet your successor!

MARCEL. Then I can see whether you are still a woman of taste.

MADELEINE. Ah, men are very--I'll say the word after I leave. [_She goes out through the little door._]

MARCEL [_alone_]. "Men are very--!" If we were, the women would have a very stupid time of it!

[_He is about to follow Madeleine._]

[_Enter Francoise._]

FRANCOISE. Who was that stylish looking woman who just left, Marcel?

MARCEL [_embarrassed_]. Madame Jackson, my American friend.

FRANCOISE. Well?

MARCEL. My picture? Sold!

FRANCOISE. Ten thousand? Splendid! Don't you think so? You don't seem very happy!

MARCEL. The idea!

[_He picks up his hat._]

FRANCOISE [_jealously_]. Are you going to leave me?

MARCEL. I am just going to Goupil's and tell him.

FRANCOISE. Then I'll have to lunch all by myself! [_Marcel stops an instant before the mirror._] You look lovely.

MARCEL [_turning round_]. I--

FRANCOISE. Oh, you'll succeed!

[_A pause._]

MARCEL [_enchanted, in spite of himself_]. What can you be thinking of! [_Aside._] What if she were after all my happiness? [_Reproachfully._] Now, Francoise--

FRANCOISE. I was only joking.

MARCEL [_ready to leave_]. No moping, remember? I can't have that!

FRANCOISE. I know!

MARCEL [_tenderly. He stands at the threshold. Aside_]. Poor child! Well I may fail!

[_He goes out, left._]

FRANCOISE [_sadly_]. Where is he going? Probably to a rendezvous. Oh, if he is! Will my luck fail me to-day? Soon he'll come back again, so well satisfied with himself! I talk to him so much about my resignation, I wonder whether he believes in it? Why must I be tormented this way forever?

[_Enter Jean, with a visiting-card._]

JEAN. Is Monsieur here?

FRANCOISE. Let me see!

[_She takes the card._]

JEAN. The gentleman is waiting, Madame.

FRANCOISE. Ask him to come in. Quick, now!

[_Jean goes out._]

[_Enter Guerin, at the back. As he sees Francoise he hesitates
before coming to her._]

FRANCOISE [_cordially_]. Come in, Monsieur. I have never seen you, but I already know you very well.

GUERIN [_a large, strong man, with grayish hair_]. Thank you, Madame. I thought I should find Monsieur Desroches at home. If you will excuse me--

FRANCOISE. I beg you!

GUERIN. I fear I am intruding: it's so early.

FRANCOISE. You intruding in Marcel's home?

GUERIN. Madame--

FRANCOISE. My husband will return soon, Monsieur.

GUERIN [_brightening_]. Good!

FRANCOISE. Will you wait for him here in the studio?

GUERIN [_advancing_]. Really, Madame, it would be most ungrateful of me to refuse your kindness.

FRANCOISE. Here are magazines and newspapers--I shall ask to be excused. [_As she is about to leave._] It was rather difficult to make you stay!

GUERIN. Forgive me, Madame. [_Aside ironically._] Too bad! She's decidedly charming!

[_Having gone up-stage, Francoise suddenly returns._]

FRANCOISE. It seems a little strange to you, Monsieur--doesn't it?--to see a woman in this bachelor studio--quite at home?

GUERIN. Why, Madame--

FRANCOISE. Before leaving you--which I shall do in a moment--you must know that there is one woman who is very glad to know you have returned to Paris!

GUERIN. We just arrived this week.

FRANCOISE. Good!

GUERIN [_ironically_]. It's so long since I've seen Marcel.

FRANCOISE. Three years.

GUERIN. So many things have happened since!

FRANCOISE. You find him a married man, for one thing--

GUERIN. Happily married!

FRANCOISE. Yes, happily!

GUERIN. Dear old Marcel! I'll be so glad to see him!

FRANCOISE. I see you haven't forgotten my husband, Monsieur. Thank you!

GUERIN. How can I help admiring so stout and loyal a heart as his!

FRANCOISE. You'll have to like me, too!

GUERIN. I already do.

FRANCOISE. Really? Then you believe everything you write?

GUERIN. Yes, Madame.

FRANCOISE. Take care! This morning I was re-reading one of your letters, in which you promised me your heartiest support. [_Offering him her hand._] Then we're friends, are we not?

GUERIN [_after hesitating, takes her hand_]. Good friends, Madame!

FRANCOISE. Word of honor?

GUERIN. Word of honor!

FRANCOISE [_sitting_]. Then I'll stay. Sit down, and let's talk. [_Guerin is uncertain._] We have so much to say to each other! Let's talk about you first.

GUERIN [_forced to sit down_]. About me? But I--

FRANCOISE. Yes, about you.

GUERIN [_quickly_]. No, about _your_ happiness, your welfare.

FRANCOISE. About my great happiness!

GUERIN [_ironically_]. Let us speak about your--existence--with which you are so content. I must know all the happiness of this house!

FRANCOISE. Happy people never have anything to say.

GUERIN. You never have troubles, I presume?

FRANCOISE. None, so far.

GUERIN. But what might happen? To-day you are living peacefully with Marcel, a man whose marriage was, it seems, strongly opposed. Life owes you no more than it has already given you.

FRANCOISE. My happiness is complete. I had never imagined that a man's goodness could make a woman so happy!

GUERIN. Goodness?

FRANCOISE. Of course!

GUERIN. Love, you mean Madame!

FRANCOISE. Oh, Marcel's love for me--!

GUERIN. Something lacking?

FRANCOISE. No!

GUERIN [_interested_]. Tell me. Am I not your friend?

FRANCOISE. Seriously, Monsieur, you know him very well: how could he be in love with me? Is it even possible? He allows one to love him, and I ask nothing more.

GUERIN. Nothing?

FRANCOISE. Only to be allowed to continue. [_Gesture from Guerin._] I am not like other women. I don't ask for rights; but I do demand tenderness, and consideration. He is free, I am not--I'll admit that. But I don't mind, I only hope that we may continue as we are!

GUERIN. Have you some presentiment, Madame?

FRANCOISE. I am afraid, Monsieur. My happiness is not of the proud, demonstrative variety, it is a kind of happiness that is continually trembling for its safety. If I told you--

GUERIN. Do tell me!

FRANCOISE. Later! How I pity any one who loves and has to suffer for it!

GUERIN [_surprised_]. You--!

FRANCOISE. I am not on the side of the jealous, of the betrayed--

GUERIN [_aside, sympathetically_]. Poor little woman! [_With great sincerity._] Then you are not sure of him?

FRANCOISE [_more and more excited_]. He is Marcel! Admit for a moment that he loves me to-day--I want so to believe it! To-morrow will he love me? Does he himself know whether he will love me then? Isn't he at the mercy of a whim, a passing fancy--of the weather, or the appearance of the first woman he happens to meet? I am only twenty, and I am not always as careful as I might be. Happiness is so difficult!

GUERIN. Yes, it is. [_To himself._] It is! [_To Francoise._] Perhaps you are conscientious, too sincere?

FRANCOISE. I feel that; yes, I think I am, but every time I try to hide my affection from him, he becomes indifferent, almost mean--as if he were glad to be relieved of a duty--of being good!

GUERIN. So it's come to that!

FRANCOISE. You see, Marcel can't get used to the idea that his other life is over, dead and buried, that he's married for good--that he must do as others do. I do my best and tell him, but my very presence only reminds him of his duties as a husband. For instance [_interrupting herself_]. Here I am telling you all this--

GUERIN. Oh!--Please.

FRANCOISE [_bitterly_]. He likes to go out alone at night, without me. He knows me well enough to understand that his being away makes me very unhappy, and as a matter of form, of common courtesy, he asks me to go with him. I try to reason and convince myself that he doesn't mean what he says, but I can't help feeling sincerely happy when once in a while I do accept his invitation. But the moment we leave the house I realize my mistake. Then he pretends to be in high spirits, but I know all the time he is acting a part; and when we come home again he lets drop without fail some hint about having lost his liberty; he says he took me out in a moment of weakness, that he really wanted to be alone.

GUERIN [_interrupting_]. And when he does go out alone?

FRANCOISE. Then I am most unhappy; I'm in torment for hours and hours. I wonder where he can be, and then I'm afraid he won't come back at all. When the door opens, when I hear him come in, I'm so happy I pay no attention to what he tells me. But I made a solemn vow never to show the least sign of jealousy. My face is always tranquil, and what I say to him never betrays what I feel. I never knowingly betray myself, but his taking way, his tenderness, soon make me confess every fear; then he turns round and, using my own confession as a weapon, shows me how wrong I am to be afraid and suspicious. And when sometimes I say nothing to him, even when he tries to make me confess, he punishes me most severely by telling me stories of his affairs, narrow escapes, and all his temptations. He once told me about an old mistress of his, whom he had just seen, a very clever woman, who was never jealous! Or else he comes in so late that I must be glad, for if he came in later, it would have been all night! He tells me he had some splendid opportunity, and had to give it up! A thousand things like that! He seems to delight in making me suspect and doubt him!

GUERIN. Poor little woman!

FRANCOISE. That's my life; as for my happiness, it exists from day to day. [_With determination._] If I only had the right to be unhappy! But I must always smile, I must be happy, not only in his presence, but to the very depths of my soul! So that he may deceive me without the least remorse! It is his pleasure!

[_She bursts into tears._]

GUERIN [_rising_]. The selfish brute!

FRANCOISE. Isn't my suffering a reproach to him?

GUERIN. I pity you, Madame, and I think I understand you better than any one else. I have trouble not unlike your own; perhaps greater, troubles for which there is no consolation.

FRANCOISE. If you understand me, Monsieur, advise me! I need you!

GUERIN [_startled back into reality_]. Me, help you? I? [_Aside._] No!

FRANCOISE. You spoke of your friendship. The time has come, prove that it is genuine!

GUERIN. Madame, why did I ever see you? Why did I listen to you?

FRANCOISE. What have you to regret?

GUERIN. Nothing, Madame, nothing.

FRANCOISE. Explain yourself, Monsieur. You--you make me afraid!

GUERIN [_trying to calm her suspicions_]. Don't cry like that! There is no reason why you should behave that way! Your husband doesn't love you as he ought, but he does love you. You are jealous, that's what's troubling you. But for that matter, why should he deceive you? That would be too unjust.

FRANCOISE [_excited_]. Too unjust! You are right, Monsieur! No matter how cynical, how blase a man may be, isn't it his duty, his sacred duty, to say to himself, "I have found a good and true woman in this world of deceptions; she is a woman who adores me, who is only too ready to invent any excuse for me! She bears my name and honors it; no matter what I do, she is always true, of that I am positive. I am always foremost in her thoughts, and I shall be her only love." When a man can say all that, Monsieur, isn't that real, true happiness?

GUERIN [_sobbing_]. Yes--that is happiness!

FRANCOISE. You are crying! [_A pause._]

GUERIN. My wife--deceived me!

FRANCOISE. Oh! [_A pause._] Marcel--

GUERIN. Your happiness is in no danger! Yesterday I found some old letters, in a desk--old letters--that was all! You weren't his wife at the time. It's ancient history.

FRANCOISE [_aside_]. Who knows?

GUERIN. Forgive me, Madame; your troubles remind me of my own. When you told of the happiness you still have to give, I couldn't help thinking of what I had lost!

FRANCOISE. So you have come to fight a duel with my husband?

GUERIN. Madame--

FRANCOISE. You are going to fight him? Answer me.

GUERIN. My life is a wreck now--I must--

FRANCOISE. I don't ask you to forget; Monsieur--

GUERIN. Don't you think I have a right?

FRANCOISE. Stop!

GUERIN. I shall not try to kill him. You love him too much! I couldn't do it now. In striking him I should be injuring you, and you don't deserve to suffer; you have betrayed no one. The happiness you have just taught me to know is as sacred and inviolable as my honor, my unhappiness. I shall not seek revenge.

FRANCOISE [_gratefully_]. Oh, Monsieur.

GUERIN. I am willing he should live, because he is so dear, so necessary to you. Keep him. If he wants to spoil your happiness, his be the blame! I shall not do it. It would be sacrilege. Good-by, Madame, good-by.

[_Guerin goes out, back, Francoise falls into a chair, sobbing._]

[_Enter Marcel by the little door._]

MARCEL [_aside, with a melancholy air_]. Refused to see me!

FRANCOISE [_distinctly_]. Oh, it's you!

MARCEL [_good-humoredly_]. Yes, it's I. [_A pause. He goes toward her._] You have been crying! Have you seen Guerin? He's been here!

FRANCOISE. Marcel!

MARCEL. Did he dare tell you!

FRANCOISE. You won't see any more of him.

MARCEL [_astounded_]. He's not going to fight?

FRANCOISE. He refuses.

MARCEL. Thank you!

FRANCOISE. I took good care of your dignity, you may be sure of that. Here we were together; I told him the story of my life during the last year--how I loved you--and then he broke down. When I learned the truth, he said he would go away for my happiness' sake.

MARCEL. I was a coward to deceive that man! Is this a final sentence that you pass on me?

FRANCOISE. Marcel!

MARCEL. Both of you are big! You have big hearts. I admire you both more than I can say.

FRANCOISE [_incredulously_]. Where are you going? To get him to fight with you?

MARCEL [_returning to her; angrily_]. How can I, now? After what you have done, it would be absurd. Why the devil did you have to mix yourself up in something that doesn't concern you? I was only looking for a chance to fight that duel!

FRANCOISE. Looking for a chance?

MARCEL. Oh, I--

FRANCOISE. Why?

MARCEL [_between his teeth_]. That's my affair! Everybody has his enemies--his insults to avenge. It was a very good thing that gentleman didn't happen across my path!

FRANCOISE. How dare you recall what he has been generous enough to forget?

MARCEL. How do you know that I haven't a special reason for fighting this duel? A legitimate reason, that must be concealed from you?

FRANCOISE. You are mistaken, dear: I guess that reason perfectly.

MARCEL. Really?

FRANCOISE. I know it.

MARCEL [_bursting forth_]. Oh! Good! You haven't always been so frightfully profound.

FRANCOISE. Yes, I have, and your irony only proves that I have not been so much mistaken in what I felt by intuition.

MARCEL. Ah, marriage.

FRANCOISE. Ah, duty!

MARCEL. I love Madame Guerin, don't I?

FRANCOISE. I don't say that.

MARCEL. You think it.

FRANCOISE. And if I do? Would it be a crime to think it? You once loved her--perhaps you have seen her again, recently? Do I know where you go? You never tell me.

MARCEL. I tell you too much!

FRANCOISE. I think you do.

MARCEL. You're jealous!

FRANCOISE. Common, if you like. Come, you must admit, Marcel, Madame Guerin is in some way responsible for your excitement now?

MARCEL. Very well then, I love her, I adore her! Are you satisfied?

FRANCOISE. You should have told me that first, my dear; I should never have tried to keep you away from her.

[_She breaks into tears._]

MARCEL. She's crying! Good, there's liberty for you!

FRANCOISE [_bitterly_]. Liberty? I did not suffer when I promised you your liberty.

MARCEL. That was your "resignation."

FRANCOISE. You knew life, I did not. You ought never to have accepted it!

MARCEL. You're like all the rest!

FRANCOISE [_more excited_]. Doesn't unhappiness level us all?

MARCEL. I see it does!

FRANCOISE. What can you ask for, then? So long as you have no great happiness like mine you are ready enough to make any sacrifice, but when once you have it, you never resign yourself to losing it.

MARCEL. That's just the difficulty.

FRANCOISE. Be a little patient, dear: I have not yet reached that state of cynicism and subtlety which you seem to want in your wife--I thought I came near to your ideal once! Perhaps there's some hope for me yet: I have promised myself to do my best to satisfy your ideal.

MARCEL [_moved_]. I don't ask that.

FRANCOISE. You are right, I am very foolish to try to struggle. What is the good? It will suffice when I have lost the dearest creature on earth--through my foolishness, my blunders!

MARCEL. The dearest creature?

FRANCOISE. I can't help it if he seems so to me!

MARCEL [_disarmed_]. You--you're trying to appeal to my vanity!

FRANCOISE. I am hardly in the mood for joking.

MARCEL [_tenderly, as he kneels at her feet_]. But you make me say things like that--I don't know what! I am not bad--really bad! No, I have not deceived you! I love you, and only you! You! You know that, Francoise! Ask--ask any woman! All women!

[_A pause._]

FRANCOISE [_smiling through her tears_]. Best of husbands! You're not going out then? You'll stay?

MARCEL [_in Francoise's arms_]. Can I go now, now that I'm here? You are so pretty that I--

FRANCOISE. Not when I'm in trouble.

MARCEL. Don't cry!

FRANCOISE. I forgive you!

MARCEL. Wait, I haven't confessed everything.

FRANCOISE. Not another word!

MARCEL. I want to be sincere.

FRANCOISE. I prefer you to lie to me!

MARCEL. First, read this note--the one I received this morning.

FRANCOISE [_surprised_]. From Madame Guerin?

MARCEL. You saw her not long ago. Yes, she calmly told me--

FRANCOISE. That her husband had found some letters!

MARCEL. And that she was about to leave for England with her lover.

FRANCOISE. Then she is quite consoled?

MARCEL. Perfectly.

FRANCOISE. Poor Marcel! And you went to see her and try to prevent her going away with him?

MARCEL. My foolishness was well punished. She wouldn't receive me.

FRANCOISE. Then I am the only one left who loves you? How happy I am!

MARCEL. I'll kill that love some day with my ridiculous philandering!

FRANCOISE [_gravely_]. I defy you!

MARCEL [_playfully_]. Then I no longer have the right to provoke Monsieur Guerin? Now?

FRANCOISE [_gayly_]. You are growing old, Lovelace, his wife has deceived you!

MARCEL [_lovingly_]. Francoise' luck! [_Sadly._] Married!

[_Curtain._]

ALTRUISM

A SATIRE

BY KARL ETTLINGER
TRANSLATED BY BENJAMIN F. GLAZER.

Copyright, 1920, by Benjamin F. Glazer.
All rights reserved.

The first performance of ALTRUISM was given by The Stage Society of
Philadelphia at the Little Theatre, Philadelphia, on January 28, 1916,
with the following cast:

A BEGGAR _Henry C. Sheppard_
A WAITER _E. Ryland Carter_
A YOUNG MAN _William H. McClure_
A COCOTTE _Sylvia Loeb._
A PARISIAN _Edward B. Latimer_
HIS WIFE _Florence Bernstein_
THEIR CHILD _Jean Massey_
AN ARTIST _Theron J. Bamberger_
AN AMERICAN _William J. Holt_
A GENTLEMAN _Caspar W. Briggs_
ANOTHER GENTLEMAN _Norris W. Corey_
A PICKPOCKET _Walter E. Endy_
A GENDARME _William H. Russell_
ANOTHER GENDARME _Frederick Cowperthwaite_
A WORKINGMAN _Walter D. Dalsimer_
A FLOWER GIRL _Katherine Kennedy_
A PASSING LADY _C. Warren Briggs_
A BYSTANDER _Charles E. Sommer_
AN OLD LADY _Paulyne Brinkman_
A GRISETTE _Florence M. Lyman_

[TIME: _The present_. PLACE: A Parisian Cafe by the Seine.]

Produced under the direction of Benjamin F. Glazer. Scene designed by
H. Devitt Welsh. Costumes designed by Martha G. Speiser.

CHARACTERS

A BEGGAR
A TOWNSMAN
A TOWNSWOMAN
THEIR SEVEN-YEAR-OLD SON
AN ARTIST
AN AMERICAN
A COCOTTE
A WAITER
A WORKINGMAN
A YOUNG MAN
TWO OFFICERS
THE CROWD

PLACE: _Paris_.
TIME: _Present_.
_On the banks of the Seine._

The play was later produced by the Washington Square Players, at the
Comedy Theatre, New York City. The professional and amateur stage
rights are reserved by the translator, Mr. Benjamin F. Glazer,
Editorial Department, _The Press_, Philadelphia, Pa., to whom all
requests for permission to produce the play should be made.

ALTRUISM

A SATIRE BY KARL ETTLINGER

[_In the background the end of a pier. On a post hangs a rope and
a life buoy. Close by the Beggar is sitting on the floor. At right
a street cafe; two tables stand under the open sky on the street.
At one of the tables sits the Waiter, reading a newspaper. At the
other sits the Cocotte and the blond Young Man. At left on a
public bench sits the Artist. He has a sketch book and pencil with
which he is drawing the Cocotte, who has noticed it and is
flirting with him._]

[_Lady xes from Left to Right._]

[_Man xes from Right to Left._]

BEGGAR [_sings_]:

Kind sir, have pity while you can,
Remember the old beggar man
The poor beggar man.

WAITER [_sitting at table, R. C., looks up from his newspaper_]. Shut up!

BEGGAR. Don't get fresh! I was once a _head_ waiter!

WAITER. That must have been a fine place.

BEGGAR. It was too. I traveled all around the world as a waiter. I saw better days before I became a beggar.

YOUNG MAN [_at table Left, fondly to the Cocotte_]. Indeed if I were a millionaire--my word of honor I would buy you an automobile. Nothing would be too dear for you.

COCOTTE [_at table Left_]. My darling Kangaroo. How liberal you are. I am sure I am your first love.

YOUNG MAN. Yes--you are--that is if I don't count the cook who has been at our house for five years--yes, on my word of honor.

[_He finishes in pantomime._]

BEGGAR [_to Waiter_]: Yes, yes, one goes down. Life is a tight rope dance--before you look around you've lost your balance, and are lying in the dirt.

WAITER [_laying aside the paper_]. You ought to go to work. That would do you more good than talking.

BEGGAR. I've tried working too. But work for our kind is the surest way to remain poor. And, do you know, begging is no pleasure either. To get the money centime by centime and no rest from the police--well, well, if I'm born into this world again I will become a government official.

[_A man passes. Enter lady from Left. Stops lady Center. Sings and
holds out his hat._]

The rich man in his banquet hall,
Has everything I long for!
The poor man gets the scraps that fall;
That's what I sing this song for.
Kind sir, have pity while you can--

[_Man exit Left._]

Do you see? he doesn't give me anything! (Social enlightenment ends with the lower classes. That is where need is greatest and the police are thickest.)

YOUNG MAN [_to the_ COCOTTE]. I would buy you a flying machine too, but you shouldn't fly alone in it--Ah, to soar with you a thousand meters above the earth--and far and wide nothing--only you and our love--

COCOTTE. What a wonderful boy you are.

[_She flirts with the Artist._]

BEGGAR. How often have I wanted to commit suicide. But why should I gratify my fellow man by doing that?--suicide is the one sin I can see nothing funny in. I always say to myself, so long as there's a jail one can never starve.

WAITER. You have no dignity.

BEGGAR. No. My dignity was taken away from me ten years ago by the law. But I'm not so sure I want it back.

WAITER [_in disgust_]. I ought to call the cops and have them drive you away from here.

BEGGAR [_confidentially_]. You wouldn't do that. Only yesterday I paid my colleagues 20 francs for this place. [_Searches in his pockets._] Here is a receipt. I won't go away from here unless the police carry me away in their arms. The police seem to be the only people who make a fuss over me these days. [_Laughs._]

WAITER. Disgusting old beggar. Why on earth such people--[_The rest is lost in his teeth._]

[_The Townsman, the Townswoman, and their child enter. The
Townsman carries the child on his shoulder and is perspiring from
the exertion._]

[_Waiter X to Right of Table. Beggar goes up stage Center._]

TOWNSWOMAN [_center Left with boy; sighs_]. That is all I have to say, just let me come to that. Just let me come to it. On the spot I'll get a divorce.

TOWNSMAN [_following her_]. Give me your word of honor on it.

TOWNSMAN. Now I know what they mean when they say that all men were polygamists.

TOWNSMAN. Calm yourself, old woman. It's all theoretical that married women are good cooks and married men are polygamists.

BEGGAR.

The rich man in his banquet hall
Has everything I long for!
The poor....

TOWNSMAN. Let him banquet in peace.

[_They sit at the table from which the Waiter has just risen._]

CHILD. I want to give the poor man something. Papa! Money! Papa! Money!

TOWNSMAN [_kisses child_]. A heart of gold has my little Phillip. A disposition like butter. He gets that from me.

TOWNSMAN. What? Asking for money or the oleo margerine disposition?

CHILD. When I give the poor man something he makes a funny face and I have to laugh. Papa, money!

TOWNSMAN. Since I've been married I make all kinds of faces, but no one gives me anything. [_Searches in his pocket book._] Too bad, I've nothing smaller than a centime piece.

TOWNSMAN. Of course, you'd rather bring up our Phillip to have a heart of stone. Children should be taught to love people. They must be brought up in that way--to have regard and respect for the most unfortunate fellow beings--How that woman is perfumed. Women like that shouldn't be permitted in the city.

YOUNG MAN [_to the Cocotte_]. I would buy you two beautiful air ships, a half moon for week days and a star for Sundays. All my millions I would lay at your feet. [_Raising his hand._] Waiter--another glass of water, please.

COCOTTE. I'd like to kiss you, my little wild horse.

[_Waiter dusts table, Right Center. Flirts with the Artist._]

[_Child, Man and Wife sit at table Right Center._]

WAITER [_to the Townsman_]. What can I bring you?

TOWNSMAN. For the child, a glass of milk, but be sure it's well cooked. [_To the Child._] A little glass of good ninni for my darling, a glass of ninni from the big moo cow.

TOWNSMAN [_mocking her_]. And for me a glass of red wine--a little glass of good red wine for the big moo-ox.

TOWNSWOMAN [_angry_]. That's just like you. Begrudge a glass of milk to your own child--naturally--so long as you have your cigar and your wine--

TOWNSMAN. My dear, I hereby give little Phillip permission to drink three cows dry. And of my next week's wages, you may buy him a whole herd of cows.

CHILD. I want chocolate! Chocolate, mama!

TOWNSMAN. You shall have it. As much as you want. Wouldn't you perhaps like to have a glass of champagne, little Phillip, and a Henry Clay cigar and a salad made of a big moo-chicken?

YOUNG MAN [_getting up, x to Center. Jumps up and runs to the Artist_]. Sir! Sir! This is unheard of. You've been drawing this lady all the time. She is a respectable lady, do you understand? For all you know she may be my wife.

ARTIST [_phlegmatically_]. More than that--for all I know she may be your mother.

YOUNG MAN [_stammering_]. My dear sir--I must call you to account--what do you mean by--

ARTIST. Why are you so excited? Isn't it a good likeness?

YOUNG MAN [_confused_]. Of course, it's a good likeness, that is--I ask you, sir, how dare you to draw a picture of my bride?

TOWNSMAN. These young people are quarreling. You always bring me to places like this. We can never go out together but there's a scandal.

COCOTTE [_who has drawn near and is examining the drawing_]. I like that. I'd like to own the drawing.

ARTIST. My dear lady, if it would give you any pleasure....

COCOTTE. I couldn't think of taking it. [_To the boy._] Buy me the picture. Sweetheart, will you buy it for me?

YOUNG MAN. I don't think much of it. You are far, far prettier.

COCOTTE. You won't refuse me this one little request. How much do you ask for the picture?

ARTIST. I hadn't thought of selling it--but because it is such a good likeness of you, ten francs. But you must promise that in return you will sit for me again--[_With emphasis._] perhaps at my studio. To-morrow at noon?

COCOTTE. Gladly! Very gladly! [_The young man pays for the sketch._] Would you care to sit down and have something with us?

ARTIST. If your fiance doesn't object?

YOUNG MAN [_coldly_]. Charmed! [_The three sit._]

THE CHILD. The chocolate is no good. I want some moo milk.

TOWNSMAN. In a minute, I'll take my moo stick and tan your moo hide.

AMERICAN. [_Enters leading a dog on a leash._] [_From Left x Center._]

BEGGAR [_sings_].

The rich man his banquet hall
Has everything I long for,
The poor man gets the crumbs that fall,
That's what I sing this song for.
Kind sir, have pity while you can,
Remember the old beggar man,
The poor beggar man.

AMERICAN. [_Has listened to the entire song impassively._] Are you through? Waiter, put a muzzle on this man. [_x to Table Right._]

TOWNSWOMAN. That is what I call an elegant man. I have always wanted you to have a suit made like that. Ask him where he got it and what it cost.

TOWNSMAN. I couldn't ask an utter stranger what his clothes cost.

TOWNSWOMAN. Of course not, but if it was a woman you would have been over there long ago.

CHILD. Mama, the bow-wow dog is biting me.

TOWNSMAN. My dear sir, your dog is biting my son.

AMERICAN. You're mistaken, madame. My dog has been carefully trained to eat none other than boiled meat.

ARTIST [_to the Young Man_]. Pardon me for asking--but is the lady your wife or your fiance?

AMERICAN [_sits, puts his legs on the two extra chairs_]. Waiter! Garcon! Bring me a quart of Cliquot, and bring my dog a menu card.

[_At the word "Cliquot" the Cocotte looks up and begins to flirt
with the American._]

CHILD. The bow-wow dog is making faces at me.

TOWNSMAN. Look here, sir, your dog is certainly about to bite my child.

AMERICAN [_lights his pipe_]. How much does your child cost?

TOWNSMAN. Cost! My child! Did you ever hear of such a thing? I want you to understand that my child p--

AMERICAN. Waiter! Tell this woman not to shout so!--How much does your child cost?

TOWNSMAN. My child costs--nothing! Do you understand?

AMERICAN. Well, your child costs nothing--my dog costs eight dollars. Think that over--is your son a thoroughbred? My dog is of the purest breed--think that over--if your son hurts my dog I'll hold you responsible. Think that over. [_Fills his glass._]

COCOTTE. What do you think that man to be, little mouse?

YOUNG MAN. A full blooded American.

ARTIST. I should say he's a German who has spent two weeks in New York.

TOWNSMAN. Aristide, are you going to sit there and permit your defenseless wife to be insulted like that?

TOWNSMAN. As long as you have your tongue, my dear, you are not defenseless.

TOWNSWOMAN. It is your business to talk to him. [_Kisses the Child._] My poor little Phillip! Your father is no man.

TOWNSMAN. I was before I got married. [_Crosses to the American._] Sir, my name is Aristide Beaurepard.

AMERICAN. Is that my fault?

TOWNSMAN. I am the father of a family.

AMERICAN. I am very sorry for you, indeed.

TOWNSMAN. I have a wife and children--

AMERICAN. You have only yourself to blame.

TOWNSMAN. Your dog--

AMERICAN. I have no desire to discuss dogs with you. I don't believe you know anything about thoroughbred dogs. Waiter, sit this man down in his place.

TOWNSMAN. This is I must say, this is--

WAITER. Monsieur, you must not make a racket around you. This is a first class establishment. A real prince once dined here, I would have you understand. Come on now, if you please. [_Leads Townsman back to his seat._]

TOWNSMAN [_sits unwillingly_]. Not a centime tip will that fellow get from me. Not a centime.

AMERICAN. Waiter, Waiter, bring my dog a portion of liver, and not too fat. And a roast potato.

BEGGAR. [_Coming down C._] [_Jumps up, cries out wildly._] I can't stand any more. For eight days I have not had a warm morsel of food in my stomach. I am not a human being any more. I'll kill myself. [_Runs to the edge of the dock and jumps overboard._] [_The splash of the water is heard. The Townswoman and the Waiter call "help, help!" Whereupon, from every side a crowd collects so that the entire background is filled with people staring into the water._]

TOWNSWOMAN. For God's sake he has thrown himself into the Seine. Oh, God! Oh, God!

OMNES. He's in the river!

AMERICAN. [_At table Right._] What a noisy place this is.

[_Townsman at center throws off his coat and is unbuttoning his
vest when his wife seizes him._]

TOWNSWOMAN. [_Center._] [_Whimpering._] Aristide, remember you have a wife and children.

TOWNSMAN. That is why I want to do it.

TOWNSWOMAN. Aristide, I'll jump in after you--as true as I live I'll jump in after you.

TOWNSMAN. [_Slowly puts his coat on again._] Then I won't do it. [_Goes with her into the crowd._]

A VOICE. Get the life buoy. [_Willing hands try to unloosen the life buoy, but it sticks._]

ANOTHER VOICE. Let that life buoy alone. Don't you see the sign "Do not touch"?

A MAN. The buoy is no good. It will not work.

ANOTHER MAN. Of course not. It's city property.

COCOTTE [_shuddering_]. I can't look at it. [_Comes back to her table._]

A WOMAN. Look! He's come up! Over there!

CHILD. I can't see.

TOWNSWOMAN. My little heart of gold [_to her husband_]. Why don't you lift him up? Don't you hear that the child can't see? [_Townsman takes the child on his shoulder._]

YOUNG MAN [_coming back to table_]. These people are utterly heartless. It is revolting.

AMERICAN [_loudly_]. I'll bet twenty dollars he drowns. Who'll take the bet? Twenty dollars.

YOUNG MAN. Are you a man or a beast?

AMERICAN. Young man, better shut your mouth. [_Fills his glass._]

YOUNG MAN. Does no one hear know the meaning of Altruism?

ARTIST. Altruism! Ha, ha! [_Laughs scornfully._] Love of one's neighbor. God preserve mankind from Altruism!

COCOTTE. What do you mean? You are not in earnest?

ARTIST. In dead earnest. [_Some one in the crowd brings a boat hook and reaches down into the river._]

AMERICAN. I'll bet twenty-five dollars that he doesn't drown--thirty dollars! [_Disgustedly, seeing that no one takes him up._] Tightwads!

ARTIST. Life is like that. One man's success is another man's failure. He who sacrifices himself for an idea is a hero. He who sacrifices himself for a fellow man is a fool.

YOUNG MAN [_theatrically_]. No, it is the highest, the noblest of instincts. That is why my heart bleeds when I see all these people stand indifferently by while a fellow man is drowning. No one jumps in after him--

AMERICAN. Jump in yourself, young man, jump in yourself.

YOUNG MAN [_center_]. It is different with me, I am with a lady--it wouldn't be right.

AMERICAN. Nobody will bet. This is a hell of a bunch. They ought to see one of our nigger lynchings. [_Strokes the dog._] Poor Molly! She is so nervous. Things like this get her all excited.

[_Two Policemen enter._]

FIRST POLICEMAN. Look at the mob. Something is liable to happen there.

SECOND POLICEMAN. Isn't it forbidden for such a mob to gather on the dock?

FIRST POLICEMAN. Sure, it's against the law. Why shouldn't it be?

SECOND POLICEMAN [_shaking their heads_]. This is no place for us. [_Exit Left._]

ARTIST [_to the Young Man_]. Does it begin to dawn on you that true love of one's neighbor would not only be monotonous but unbearable as well.

YOUNG MAN. Out there a man is drowning--and you stand there moralizing.

ARTIST. Why not? We read a dozen suicides every day. [_x to Chair Left._] Yet we go home and eat our dinner with undiminished relish. Why then sentimentalize over a drowning beggar? I wouldn't rescue a man who had fallen into the water much less one who had jumped in.

YOUNG MAN [_passionately_]. Sir--I despise you! [_Goes into the crowd._]

[_A man has succeeded in prying up the life buoy, now he throws it
into the water with the warning cry "Look out."_]

ARTIST. Love of one's neighbor is a mask. A mask that people wear to hide from themselves their real faces.

AMERICAN [_x to Artist Left_]. No, I don't agree with you. I am strong for love of one's neighbor. Indeed, the Bible tells us to love our neighbor as ourselves. Oh, I am very strong for it. I go to Church on Sundays in the U. S. A. I never touch a drop--in the U. S. A.

VOICE. The life buoy is sinking.

ANOTHER VOICE. That's why they call it a _life buoy_. [_Laughter._]

COCOTTE [_sympathetically_]. How interestingly you talk. I love Americans.

AMERICAN. We have two kinds of neighborly love back home. Neighborly love that makes for entertaining and dancing, and neighborly love that you read about next day in the newspapers.

OMNES [_Workingman who has just entered._] [_Right._] What's the matter here? [_Elbows his way through the crowd._] Make way there! Let me through! [_Throws off coat, tightens his belt, spits in his hand and jumps into the water._] [_Great excitement._]

YOUNG MAN [_center_]. [_Ecstatically._] A hero! A hero!

AMERICAN [_loudly but indifferently_]. I'll bet sixty dollars that both of them drown!--Seventy! Seventy-five! [_Contemptuously._] I can't get a bet around here. I'm going back to America.

[_The Artist goes into the crowd._]

COCOTTE [_at table Left, alone with American_]. Going back so soon?

AMERICAN. As soon as I have seen Paris. Wouldn't you like to show me the town? I'll meet you to-morrow at four in front of the Opera House.

COCOTTE. I'll be there. I like Americans.

THE MOB [_cheering_]. He's got him! Hurrah! [_The pole is outstretched._]

AMERICAN. I'd like to know how much longer that waiter means to keep my dog waiting for her order of liver. [_x to table Right._]

YOUNG MAN [_comes down to table, joyfully_]. He is saved; thank God he is saved. Weren't you sorry at all when that poor wretch jumped into the river?

AMERICAN. Young man, is it my river?

THE MOB [_cheering again_]. Hurrah! [_Great excitement._]

[_The Workingman and the Beggar are dragged dripping out of the
water. They help the Beggar to a chair._]

WORKINGMAN [_center_]. [_Shaking himself._] That was no easy job.

A WOMAN [_left, center_]. Take care what you are doing. You are wetting my whole dress.

BEGGAR. [_Left._] [_Whimpering._] Oh!--Oh!--Oh!--

YOUNG MAN [_left_]. [_Shaking the Workingman's hand._] You are a noble fellow. I saw how brave you were.

WORKINGMAN [_business like_]. Did you? Then give me your name and address.

YOUNG MAN [_gives him a card_]. Jules Leboeof, Rue d'Hauteville.

WORKINGMAN. Who else saw it?

BEGGAR. Oh! Oh! Oh!

WORKINGMAN. Shut your mouth. Your turn comes next. Who else saw me save him?

TOWNSMAN. [_R. C._] Aristide Beaurepard, Rue de Lagny, a14.

TOWNSMAN. Must you mix in everything? This is nothing to you. Do you want to get in trouble? You didn't see a thing. Why you just want to get in trouble? You didn't see a thing. Why you just this moment came. What do you want the address for, eh?

WORKINGMAN. Do you think I am taking cold baths for my health? I want to get a medal for life saving.

A MAN. You have a chance to get an award from the Carnegie fund for life saving.

WORKINGMAN. Don't I know it. I read all about it in "Humanitie" yesterday. Do you think I'd have jumped in the water otherwise?

[_A crowd has collected around the Beggar._]

BEGGAR. O God! O God! I'm soaking wet.

AMERICAN [_cold bloodedly._] Isn't that surprising?

BEGGAR. I am freezing. I am freezing to death.

COCOTTE. Waiter, bring him a glass of brandy and charge it to me. [_Waiter exit Right._]

CHILD [_whimpering_]. I am freezing too, Mama, I'm cold.

TOWNSWOMAN. My poor little Phillip. [_To her husband._] You never think of bringing a coat for the child. There, my darling, you shall have a cup of hot coffee right away.

CHILD. Coffee is pfui. I want brandy!

TOWNSMAN [_sternly_]. Brandy is not for children. You'll drink coffee.

TOWNSWOMAN. Who says brandy is not for children? You get the most foolish ideas in your head. Hush, hush, my baby, you shall have some brandy.

AMERICAN. They ought to offer a medal for the murder of certain kinds of wives.

BEGGAR. Oh! [_Whimpering._] Oh, what a life I lead! What a life!

A MAN [_feeding sugar to the dog_].

BEGGAR. I wish I were dead. Why did they pull me out? I want to die. What does life mean to me? What joy is there in life for me?

ARTIST. There will be less joy for you in death. [_Laughter._]

BEGGAR. If I were only young. If I only had my two strong arms again. I never dreamed I would come to this. I never would have believed it--Forty years ago I was a workingman, yes, forty years until an accident--

WORKINGMAN. Were you a Union man, brother?

BEGGAR. Certainly--certainly. [_Guardedly._] That is, I wasn't exactly a Union man but--

WORKINGMAN. What! Not a Union man. [_Rushes at him._]

TOWNSMAN. What do you want to do to that poor man?

WORKINGMAN. Throw him back in the river. [_He is held back._]

BEGGAR. Forty years I worked at the machine--and now I have nothing to show for it but diseased lungs.

TOWNSWOMAN [_decisively_]. Aristide, we are going home. Tuberculosis is contagious.

WORKINGMAN. That's capital for you. The capitalist sucks the workingman dry and then turns him out on the streets to starve. But we, the people, shall have our day. When first the uprising of the masses--

AMERICAN. Oh, don't make a speech.

BEGGAR [_whining_]. And my military medal is gone. I must have lost it in the water. You can still see the saber wound on my arm.

YOUNG MAN. Thus the Fatherland repays its valiant sons.

BEGGAR. Nobody knows what I suffered for France. Twenty years I served in the foreign legion.

AMERICAN. This fellow ought to be celebrating his two hundredth birthday soon.

BEGGAR. O God--my poor wife--my poor children--the youngest is just four months old--

COCOTTE. Poor soul, here are two francs for you. [_Other people take out their purses._]

BEGGAR. God bless you mademoiselle. [_Holds out his hat for the other alms._]

[_During the excitement the Beggar passes through the crowd
begging and singing._]

BEGGAR.

The rich man in his banquet hall,
Has everything I long for.
The poor man gets the crumbs that fall,
That's what I sing this song for.
Help a poor man, sir.

AMERICAN [_cries out in sudden alarm._] My dog! My Molly! She has jumped into the river! [_The crowd is still and listening to him._] She will drown! [_Runs to the edge of the dock._] There she is--swimming. Oh, my Molly! She cost me eighty dollars. [_Desperately._] A hundred dollars to the man that saves my dog. A hundred dollars.

A MAN. Do you mean that?

AMERICAN [_deaf to everything but his anxiety_]. A hundred dollars. Here, I'll put it up with the Waiter--a hundred dollars for my poor dog.

VOICES IN THE CROWD. A hundred dollars! Five hundred francs!

[_The Crowd moves, pushing and gesticulating to the water's edge.
One by one they jump into the Seine with a great splashing. Only
the American, the Young Man, the Cocotte and the Beggar remain._]

AMERICAN. My poor Molly! She loved me like a son! Where is that pole? [_Gets pole and thrusts with it in the water._]

A VOICE. Hey! Oh! My head!

AMERICAN [_beside himself_]. There--over there--the poor dog never had a swimming lesson. [_Sees the Young Man._] What are you standing there for? You with your precious neighborly love! A hundred and fifty dollars for my dog! Jump in! Here is a deposit. [_Pushes money in his hand._]

YOUNG MAN [_makes ready to jump, but stops at the edge and turns around_]. No! For a dog? Never!

AMERICAN. It was a thoroughbred dog. Jump! I'll give you two hundred--I'll take you back to the U. S. A. with me--I'll pay for your musical education--anything--if you save my dog.

YOUNG MAN. Will you really pay for my musical education if I save your dog?

AMERICAN [_on knees by wall_]. Every instrument there is--piano, piccolo, cornet, bass drum--only jump!--jump!

YOUNG MAN [_upon wall throws a farewell kiss to the Cocotte, takes a heroic posture_]. With God! [_Makes a perfect dive into the river._]

AMERICAN [_at the end of the dock, brokenly_]. Poor Molly! [_Dries his eyes with handkerchief._] I'll endow a home for poor Parisians if she is brought back to me alive. [_To the Cocotte._] Oh, dear lady, I don't know whether I shall be able to meet you to-morrow at the Avenue de l'Opera. I have had a bereavement. [_Comes down to the pavement._] I must telephone to the lifeguard station. [_Exits into the cafe._] Poor Molly! All the insurance I carried on her is three thousand dollars. [_Exit with Artist into cafe, Right._] [_There is a brief pause._]

BEGGAR [_angrily_]. Damn his heart; the dog tender! I hope he drowns himself. Just as I was doing the best business in weeks that damn dog had to spoil everything. The scabby beast.

COCOTTE. How often have I asked you not to use those vulgar expressions.