ACT I
A very undistinguished room in a house in a French country town. The time is February. There is in the centre of the room a table, with chairs round it; a fireplace on the left, and window on the right; a piano; lamps; a bronze statuette of Gutenberg; holland covers on the furniture. There are doors to right and left and at the back.
Madame Dupont is discovered alone, darning stockings. After a moment or two Courthezon comes in, with some papers in his hand.
COURTHEZON. Why, you’re all alone, Madame Dupont?
MME. DUPONT. Yes, M. Courthezon.
COURTHEZON. Your young ladies are listening to the band?
MME. DUPONT. No: Julie has gone to pay a call, and Caroline is at Benediction. She goes every Sunday.
COURTHEZON. Oh, yes, of course.
MME. DUPONT. On Sunday we never see her, except at déjeûner. The rest of the day she’s at church. I believe she never misses a service. And now she is one of the Enfants de Marie. At her age, too!
COURTHEZON. How old is she?
MME. DUPONT. Thirty-three.
COURTHEZON. And still very religious?
MME. DUPONT. Very.
COURTHEZON [nodding] Her mother was just the same.
MME. DUPONT. You remember my husband’s first wife?
COURTHEZON. Yes. I came to the printing office two years before she died. [Pause] M. Dupont is at his game at the Café du Commerce, no doubt? I should be there myself if I could afford it.
MME. DUPONT. You have your savings.
COURTHEZON. Precisely; and I don’t want to lose them. But you are working, Madame Dupont?
MME. DUPONT. Mending some stockings. One must find something to do.
COURTHEZON. I’ve been hard at it, too, all day.
MME. DUPONT. Still at your invention?
COURTHEZON. Yes. I tell you it’s splendid. I’ve been downstairs to the printing office to see if there were any orders.
MME. DUPONT. Were there any?
COURTHEZON [looking through papers in his hand] Three hundred visiting cards, a price list, and an announcement.
MME. DUPONT [stopping her work] Death? Birth?
COURTHEZON. Neither. A marriage.
MME. DUPONT. Give it me. [Reads paper which Courthezon gives her] M. Jacquemin. M. Jacquemin! And who is this Mlle. Martha Violet whom he is marrying?
COURTHEZON. One of the Violets of the Rue du Pré.
MME. DUPONT. Oh, yes: of course. [To Courthezon, who makes as if to take back the paper] Leave it with me. I will send it down to you. I want to show it to Julie. So you are pleased with your invention?
COURTHEZON [sitting down] I am delighted with it. Delighted! I’ve been working at it twenty years! And now it’s finished. What do you think of that?
Enter Caroline. She is tall, stringy, not pretty, not attractive, but not absurd. She has a prayer-book in her hand.
MME. DUPONT [carelessly, to Courthezon, who has stopped] Go on. It’s only Caroline. [Interested] And you still won’t tell us what it is?
COURTHEZON. Not yet. [Rising, bowing to Caroline] Good day, Mlle. Caroline.
CAROLINE [half-returning his bow] Good day, M. Courthezon.
MME. DUPONT. I can imagine how pleased you are.
COURTHEZON. Of course I am.
CAROLINE. You have finished your invention!
COURTHEZON. Yes. How did you guess?
CAROLINE [a little confused] Oh, only—
COURTHEZON. Only?
CAROLINE [in a lower voice] Only that I knew it.
COURTHEZON. You knew it?
CAROLINE [confused] Yes. But never mind about that.
MME. DUPONT [to Courthezon] And now you will become a rich man, eh, M. Courthezon?
COURTHEZON. Not all at once. I must first find someone who will buy my invention, or who will advance me money to push it for myself. But there’s plenty of time to think of all that: and whether I succeed or not, I am glad to have given twenty years of my life to inventing something that will make life a little easier for those who will come after me. And now I am going downstairs to the office to do a little work. You’ll send down that announcement, won’t you?
MME. DUPONT. I won’t forget.
COURTHEZON. Good evening, Madame Dupont. Good evening, Mlle. Caroline.
CAROLINE & MME. DUPONT. Good evening, M. Courthezon.
Courthezon goes out.
MME. DUPONT. Why were you so sure he had completed his invention?
CAROLINE [confused, after a moment’s silence] You won’t tell anyone, mother?
MME. DUPONT. No.
CAROLINE. Because I prayed for it.
MME. DUPONT [not spitefully, but with a slight shrug of the shoulders] I see.
Julie comes in.
JULIE. Here I am, maman [she kisses her]. You here, Caro? [She does not kiss her].
MME. DUPONT. Ah, Julie! Sit down, dear, and tell me what you have been doing and whom you have seen.
[Her warm greeting to Julie contrasts markedly with the cold reception she previously gave to Caroline].
JULIE. I went to see Madame Leseigneur.
MME. DUPONT. I might have guessed that.
JULIE. Why?
MME. DUPONT. You only go to houses where there are children. And as Madame Leseigneur has six—
JULIE. I wish I were in her place. Only think: André, the youngest, you know, the one who is only six months old?
MME. DUPONT. Yes.
JULIE. He recognised me. There never was such a baby for taking notice.
MME. DUPONT. You talk as if you were a mother yourself.
JULIE. Jean laughed till he cried when he saw what I had brought him. Charles and Pierre were in disgrace because they’d been fighting. But I got their mother to forgive them, so that was all right. To-morrow I shall go to Madame Durand to hear how Jacques is going on. I hear he has the whooping-cough.
MME. DUPONT [laughing] You ought to have been a nurse.
JULIE [seriously] No, no. I should have died when I had to leave the first child I had nursed.
MME. DUPONT. Then you should marry.
JULIE. Yes. [Pause].
MME. DUPONT [to Caroline] Well, Caroline, what are you doing there with your mouth open?
CAROLINE. I was listening.
MME. DUPONT. Have you finished your painting?
CAROLINE. No. I still have six of the Marie Antoinette figures to do, and a dozen china Cupids to finish.
JULIE. How funny it is to think of Caro painting Cupids!
CAROLINE. Why?
MME. DUPONT [to Caroline] And you have to send all those off by twelve o’clock to-morrow?
CAROLINE. Yes.
MME. DUPONT. You will never have them ready.
CAROLINE. I shall manage.
MME. DUPONT. You might do a little at them now, before dinner, instead of sitting there twiddling your fingers.
CAROLINE. I shall get up early to-morrow.
MME. DUPONT. Even if you do get up early—
CAROLINE. I shall begin at six, as soon as it is light.
MME. DUPONT. Still, you might do some work on them now.
CAROLINE. I would rather not.
MME. DUPONT. Because it’s Sunday, I suppose; and one mustn’t work on Sunday.
CAROLINE. Yes. [Pause] Why should you mind, mother, if I—
MME. DUPONT. I? Not the least in the world. Do as you please. You are old enough to decide for yourself.
JULIE [who has been reading one of the papers] Is Courthezon down in the office? I should like the next part of this.
MME. DUPONT. You know quite well your father doesn’t like you to read the proofs of the stories he has to print.
JULIE. I have no others. Listen to this: isn’t it too bad to have to stop there? [Reads] ‘Solange was still in Robert’s arms. At this moment the Count entered, menacing, terrible, his revolver in his hand.’ I do so want to know what happened next!
CAROLINE. The Count will kill them, of course. It is his right.
JULIE. I wonder.
CAROLINE. According to law.
JULIE. That’s no reason. I want to read over again where Robert comes in. It’s lovely. And the meeting with Solange in Italy, one evening in May. Where is it? Ah, here! [Reads] ‘Under the deep blue of the sky, picked out by stars, by the shore of the calm sea that a perfumed breeze just ruffled, and in which were reflected with the stars above the many distant lights of Mentone and of Monte Carlo—’
MME. DUPONT [smiling] And your father imagines he has cured you of all such foolishness!
JULIE. I am doing no harm.
MME. DUPONT. No matter. I would rather you didn’t read any more novels.
JULIE. Why? Berthe Paillant reads all the stories that come out, and she’s younger than I am.
MME. DUPONT. Berthe Paillant is married.
JULIE. There it is! If one is not to remain a child to the end of one’s days one must marry. I am twenty-four, and I may’nt read the books which Berthe can read at eighteen.
MME. DUPONT. There’s my thread broken again. I believe you bought it at Lagnier’s, Caroline.
CAROLINE. Yes.
MME. DUPONT. Why didn’t you go to Laurent’s?
CAROLINE. I thought we ought to deal with those who believe as we do.
MME. DUPONT. If only one could find a good Catholic who sold good wool!
CAROLINE. There isn’t one in the town.
JULIE [with a sigh] Heigho! You don’t know of a husband for me, do you, Caro?
CAROLINE. What sort of one do you want?
JULIE [seriously] I am getting to the time of life when a woman accepts the first man who offers himself. Choose whatever sort you think best for me [laughing]. What would be your ideal? Someone in business? A captain in the army? Tell me.
CAROLINE. No.
JULIE. Why not?
CAROLINE. If I were to marry, I should choose a worker, a man with a noble aim, a man who would be ready to sacrifice himself to make life a little easier for those who will come after him.
MME. DUPONT. Oh, don’t talk like a sentimental novel, Caroline.
CAROLINE. I was not.
MME. DUPONT. Well, I’m sure I’ve read that somewhere. Besides, at your age one doesn’t speak of those things any longer.
JULIE. Talking of that, you know Henriette Longuet?
MME. DUPONT. Yes.
JULIE. She is going to be married.
MME. DUPONT. Indeed?
JULIE. Yes. [Thoughtfully] I’m the last to go.
MME. DUPONT. The last go off best. What a week this is for marriages! Courthezon brought me an announcement just now which I kept to show you. Where is it? Ah, here it is. [Hands it to her].
JULIE [after looking at it, sadly] That finishes it!
MME. DUPONT. What do you mean?
CAROLINE. What is it, Julie?
JULIE. Nothing.
MME. DUPONT. Were you thinking of M. Jacquemin?
JULIE. How do I know? He has never said anything to me, of course, but I fancied he had noticed me. I didn’t care much about him, but he was better than nothing. Better than nothing! [Sighs] It’s a stupid sort of world for girls nowadays.
Dupont comes in.
DUPONT [brimming over with excitement and importance] Ah! Here are the children. Run away, my dears, for a few minutes. I’ll call you when I want you.
JULIE [going with Caroline] Caroline! Do you think it is—?
CAROLINE [thoughtfully] It does look like it.
They go out together.
MME. DUPONT. Well, what is it?
DUPONT [with an air of importance] M. and Madame Mairaut will be here in an hour, at six o’clock.
MME. DUPONT. Yes?
DUPONT [craftily] And do you know why they are coming?
MME. DUPONT. No.
DUPONT. To ask for Julie’s hand in marriage. That’s all!
MME. DUPONT. For their son?
DUPONT. Well, my dear, it’s not for the Sultan of Turkey.
MME. DUPONT. M. Mairaut, the banker.
DUPONT. M. Mairaut, head of the Banque de l’Univers, 14 Rue des Trois-Chapeaux, second floor.
MME. DUPONT. Yes; but—
DUPONT. Now, now, don’t excite yourself. Don’t lose your head. The thing isn’t done yet. Listen. For the last fortnight, at the Merchants’ Club, Mairaut has been taking me aside and talking about Julie—asking me this, that, and the other. As you may suppose, I let him run on. To-day we were talking together about the difficulty of marrying one’s children. ‘I know something of that,’ said he. ‘So do I,’ I said. Then he grinned at me and said: ‘Supposing Madame Mairaut and I were to come in one of these days to discuss the question with you and Madame Dupont?’ You may imagine my delight. I simply let myself go. But no, when I say I let myself go, I do myself an injustice. I kept a hand over myself all the time. ‘One of these days. Next week, perhaps?’ I said, carelessly, just like that. ‘Why not to-day?’ said he. ‘As you please,’ said I. ‘Six o’clock?’ ’Six o’clock.’ What do you think of that?
MME. DUPONT. But M. Mairaut—the son, I mean—Monsieur—what is his Christian name?
DUPONT. Antonin, Antonin Mairaut.
MME. DUPONT. Antonin, of course. I was wondering. Is M. Antonin Mairaut quite the husband we should choose for Julie?
DUPONT. I know what you mean. His life isn’t all that it should be. There’s that woman—
MME. DUPONT. So people say.
DUPONT. But we needn’t bother about that. There’s another matter, however, that is worth considering—though, of course, you haven’t thought of it. Women never do think of the really important things.
MME. DUPONT. You mean money? The Mairauts haven’t any. They only keep a couple of clerks altogether in their bank. They may have to put up the shutters any day.
DUPONT. Yes: but there’s someone else who may put his shutters up first. Antonin’s uncle. The old buffer may die. And he has two hundred thousand francs, and never spends a penny.
MME. DUPONT. True. But—
DUPONT. But. But. There you go. You’re determined never to see anything that is more than an inch before your nose. I don’t blame you for it. Women are like that.
MME. DUPONT. But suppose he disinherits Antonin?
DUPONT. You forget I shall be there. I flatter myself I shall know how to prevent Uncle Maréchal from disinheriting his nephew. Besides, what is Uncle Maréchal?
MME. DUPONT. Antonin’s uncle.
DUPONT. You don’t understand. I ask you what he is. What is his position, I mean.
MME. DUPONT. He’s head clerk at the Prefecture.
DUPONT. Exactly. And he could get me the contract for all the printing work at his office. Thirty thousand francs a year! How much profit does that mean?
MME. DUPONT. Five thousand francs.
DUPONT. Five thousand? Ten thousand! If one is only to make the ordinary trade profit, what’s the good of Government contracts?
MME. DUPONT. I’m afraid young M. Mairaut’s character—
DUPONT. His character! We know nothing about his character. He has one virtue which nothing can take away from him: he is his uncle’s nephew. And his uncle can get me work that will bring in ten thousand francs a year, besides being as rich as Crœsus.
MME. DUPONT. Still, are you sure that he is the right sort of husband for Julie?
DUPONT. He is the right sort of husband for Julie, and the right sort of son-in-law for me.
MME. DUPONT [dubiously] Well, you know more of these things than I do.
DUPONT [looks at his watch] Ten minutes past five. Now listen to me. We have very little time, but I feel the ideas surging through my brain with extraordinary clearness. It’s only in moments of emergency that I feel myself master of all my faculties, though I flatter myself I’m not altogether a fool at the worst of times. [He sits upon a chair, his hands leaning upon the back of it]. I will explain everything to you, so that you may make as few blunders as possible. We must get old Mairaut to agree that all the money, Julie’s and Antonin’s, shall be the joint property of them both.
MME. DUPONT. But there will be Julie’s dot.
DUPONT [pettishly] If you keep interrupting we shall never be done. The joint property of them both, on account of Uncle Maréchal’s money. Do you understand?
MME. DUPONT. Yes.
DUPONT. That’s a blessing. Well, then we shall ask for—
MME. DUPONT. No settlements. I understand.
DUPONT. On the contrary, we shall ask for the strictest settlements on both sides.
MME. DUPONT. But—
DUPONT. You are out of your depth. Better simply listen without trying to understand. [He rises, replaces his chair, and taps her knowingly on the shoulder]. In these cases one should never ask for the thing one wants. One must know how to get the other side to offer it, and be quite pleased to get it accepted. Well, then, I am giving Julie fifty thousand francs as her dot.
MME. DUPONT. Fifty thousand! But Julie has only twenty-five thousand.
DUPONT. That is so. I shall give her twenty-five thousand down and promise the rest for next year.
MME. DUPONT. You can’t mean that. You will never be able to keep such a promise. [She rises].
DUPONT. Who knows? If I get the contract from the Prefecture.
MME. DUPONT. We ought to ask Julie what she thinks of this marriage.
DUPONT. We haven’t much time, then. Still, call her: and take off these covers [pointing to the chairs].
MME. DUPONT [she goes towards the door on the right; then returns] But have you thought—
DUPONT. I have thought of everything.
MME. DUPONT. Of everything? What about Angèle and her story?
DUPONT [pompously] Angèle is no longer my daughter.
MME. DUPONT. Still, we shall have to tell them.
DUPONT. Naturally. Since they know it already.
MME. DUPONT. I am nearly sure it was she I met last time I was in Paris.
DUPONT. You were mistaken.
MME. DUPONT. I don’t think so.
DUPONT. In any case, in acting as I did I was doing my duty. I can hold my head up and fear nothing. Call Julie. She will help you to put the room tidy. [Madame Dupont goes out].
DUPONT [rubbing his hands] I think I’ve managed things pretty well this time! I think so!
Julie and Madame Dupont come in.
JULIE. Father, is it someone who wants to marry me?
DUPONT. It is. [To Madame Dupont, pointing to the chairs] Take off those covers. [To Julie] You know young M. Mairaut—M. Antonin Mairaut? [He sits down]. You have danced together several times.
JULIE. Yes.
DUPONT. What do you think of him?
JULIE. As a husband?
DUPONT. As a husband. Don’t answer in a hurry. Take off that cover from the chair you are sitting on and give it to your mother.
JULIE [obeying] Have his parents formally proposed for him?
MME. DUPONT. No. But if they should do so your father and I wish to know—
DUPONT [to Madame Dupont, giving her the last chair cover, which he has taken off himself] Take all these away. [Madame Dupont goes out]. The formal offer has not been made, but it will be soon, in less than an hour.
JULIE. Is that why you are taking all this trouble? [She points to the chairs].
DUPONT. Precisely. We mustn’t appear to be paupers or people without social position. [He seizes a bowl in which there are some visiting cards]. Very old, these cards. Very yellow. And the names, too, common rather. I must put that right. [To his wife, who returns] Go down to the printing office and ask Courthezon to give you some printed specimens of our new visiting cards at three francs—no, three francs fifty. And then put that Wagner opera on the piano which someone left to be bound. [Madame Dupont goes. To Julie] I have no desire to influence you, my dear.
JULIE. Still—
DUPONT [going to the mantelpiece] Still what? Wait while I light the lamp [He strikes a match].
JULIE. Why, it’s still quite light.
DUPONT. When one receives visitors one doesn’t wait till it is dark before—You are old enough to know—what the deuce is the matter with the oil?—old enough to know what you are about. Damn the lamps! When they are never lighted it is the devil’s own job to make them burn. Yes, as I was saying, it is for you to weigh the pros and the cons. Marriage—— There! [He looks round him] Is there anything else to be done to make things look better? What is that over there? That great stupid Caroline’s hat!
MME. DUPONT [coming in and bringing visiting cards and a piano score of an opera] Here are the cards and the music book.
DUPONT. Thanks. [He gives Caroline’s hat to Madame Dupont] Take this thing away. And these stockings. Hide them somewhere. You don’t want to appear to do your own darning, confound it! It’s extraordinary you shouldn’t have thought of that. [Madame Dupont goes out, returning in a moment. Dupont continues mechanically to Julie] It is for you to weigh the pros and cons. This is better. Vicomte de Liverolles; M. L’Abbé Candar, Honorary Canon; Ange Nitron, Ex-Municipal Councillor. That will look well enough. The Wagner score on the piano, open, of course. That’s right. There’s something else I want, though. Julie, the box of cigars which M. Gueroult sent me when he was elected to the Chamber.
JULIE [bringing a box] Here it is.
DUPONT. Give it me.
JULIE. You haven’t begun it yet.
DUPONT. Wait. [He rummages in his pocket and takes out a knife, which he opens] We must show them that other people besides deputies smoke cigars at five sous. [He opens the box] Without being proud, one has one’s dignity to keep up. There! [He takes a handful of cigars and gives them to his daughter] Put those in the drawer so that the box mayn’t seem to have been opened on purpose for them. [He arranges the box on the table]. A fashion paper? Excellent! And for myself [to Mme. Dupont] Léontine, give me a fresh ribbon of my Order of Christ. This one is faded. [To his daughter] He is twenty-eight. He is good looking and distinguished. He passed his law examination at Bordeaux. [He puts a fresh ribbon in his coat and looks at himself for a considerable time in the glass]. In a town where I was not known this would be as good as the Legion of Honour. [He turns round]. Well? Have you made up your mind?
JULIE. I should like more time to think it over.
DUPONT. You have still a quarter of an hour.
MME. DUPONT. She would like a few days, perhaps.
DUPONT. That’s it. Shilly shally! We are to have the story of that great stupid Caroline over again, are we? No! Your sister, whom you see now an old maid, who will never be married, unless her aunt in Calcutta leaves her some money—your sister, too, had her chance one day. She hum’d and ha’d; she wanted to think it over. And you see the result. That’s what thinking it over leads to. Here she is, still on my hands!
MME. DUPONT. You mustn’t say that. She earns her own living.
DUPONT. She earns her own living, perhaps; but she remains on my hands all the same. By the way, we had better not say anything to the Mairauts about Caroline’s working for money.
MME. DUPONT. They are sure to know.
DUPONT. Not they. What was I saying? Oh, yes. She remains on my hands all the same. And one old maid is quite enough in the family. Two would be intolerable. Remember, my child, you have no dot—at least, none worth mentioning. And as things go nowadays, when one has no dot, one mustn’t be too particular.
JULIE. To marry nowadays, then, a girl has to buy her husband?
DUPONT [shrugs] Well—
JULIE. And there’s nothing but misery for girls who have no money.
DUPONT. It’s not quite as bad as that. But obviously there is a better choice for those who have a good fortune.
JULIE [bitterly] And the others must be content with damaged goods, much reduced in price!
DUPONT. There are exceptions, of course. But, as a rule, husbands are like anything else. If you want a good article, you must be prepared to pay for it.
MME. DUPONT. And, even so, one is often cheated.
DUPONT. Possibly. But M. Antonin Mairaut is a very eligible young man. No? What do you want, then, in Heaven’s name? If you are waiting for a royal prince, say so. Are you waiting for a prince? Answer me. Come, my child, this is an opportunity you may never see again: a young man, well brought up, with an uncle who is head clerk at the Prefecture and can double my profits by putting the contract for printing in my way, not to speak of other things. And you raise difficulties!
MME. DUPONT. Think, dear. You are four-and-twenty.
DUPONT. And you have had the astonishing good luck to captivate this young fellow—at a ball, it seems.
JULIE. I believe so. He wanted to kiss me in one of the passages. I had to put him in his place.
MME. DUPONT. You were quite right.
DUPONT. I don’t say she wasn’t—that is, if she didn’t overdo it. In his case I’m sure it was only playfulness.
MME. DUPONT. Oh, of course.
JULIE. I only half like him, father.
DUPONT. Well, if you half like him, that’s always something. Plenty of people marry without even that.
MME. DUPONT. You don’t dislike him, do you, Julie?
JULIE. No.
DUPONT [triumphantly] Well, then!
JULIE. That’s hardly enough, is it?
DUPONT. Come, come, my dear, we must talk seriously. As a child you were full of romantic notions. Thank Heaven, I cured you of that weakness. You know well enough that unhappy marriages are, more often than not, love marriages.
JULIE [unconvinced] I know, I know. Still, I want to have a husband who loves me.
DUPONT. But he does love you, doesn’t he, since you’ve only just told us that he wanted to kiss you at a ball.
JULIE. I want to be something more than my husband’s plaything.
DUPONT. You’ll lead your husband by the nose, never fear.
JULIE. How do you know?
DUPONT. Never you mind. I know it. And now really we have had enough of this. You think that a whim of yours is to upset all my plans, prevent me from increasing my printing business and retiring next year, as we intended, your mother and I. You think we haven’t—I haven’t—worked enough, I suppose. You don’t wish us to have a little rest before we die? You think I have not earned that rest, perhaps? Answer me! You think I have not earned it?
JULIE. Of course you have, father.
DUPONT [mollified] Very well, then. Still, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I don’t press you for a definite answer to-day. All I ask is that you won’t be obstinate, or refuse to let us present Antonin to you as a possible husband, if his parents make any advances. That is all. You will, then, talk with him, ask him questions. Naturally, you must get to know each other.
MME. DUPONT. Think carefully, my child.
DUPONT. Make up your mind whether you wish to follow the example of that great stupid Caroline.
MME. DUPONT. You are quite old enough to be married. [A pause].
DUPONT. Answer. Aren’t you old enough to be married?
JULIE. Quite, father.
DUPONT. Have you any other offers?
MME. DUPONT. Have you any choice?
JULIE. No.
DUPONT. You see!
MME. DUPONT. You see!
DUPONT. Well, then, it’s all settled. [He looks at his watch] And only just in time! M. Mairaut is punctuality itself. It’s five minutes to six. In five minutes he will be here. [Julie is silent, gazing through the open window. The laughter of children is heard outside. To Madame Dupont, irritably] What’s she looking out of that window for?
MME. DUPONT. It’s Madame Brichot. She is just going in with her children.
JULIE [to herself, with a smile of great sweetness, recalling a word which she has just caught while dreaming] Maman!
DUPONT. Well?
JULIE. I will do as you wish.
DUPONT. Ouf! Now go and change your dress.
JULIE. Change my dress?
MME. DUPONT. Of course. You will be supposed to know nothing; but you must be tidy.
JULIE. What am I to put on?
MME. DUPONT [reflecting] Let me see. [A sudden inspiration] I know. Isn’t there a dance at the Gontiers’ to-night?
JULIE. But we said we wouldn’t go.
MME. DUPONT [rising, briskly] We are going all the same. Put on your ball dress.
JULIE. Before dinner? Is he marrying my clothes?
MME DUPONT. No. But you look best in your ball dress. Do as I tell you, dear.
JULIE. Very well. [She goes out].
DUPONT. Are you really going to this ball?
MME. DUPONT. Certainly not.
DUPONT. Well, then?
MME. DUPONT. M. Antonin is coming.
DUPONT [understanding] And Julie looks far better when she is—you are quite right. [A bell rings]. There they are! Come into the next room, quick!
MME. DUPONT. Why?
DUPONT. We must keep them waiting a little. It creates an impression. [To the maid, who passes to go to open the door, in an undertone] Ask them to wait a moment.
MAID. Yes, monsieur.
DUPONT. Now, then. [He bustles Madame Dupont out of the room. After a moment M. and Madame Mairaut enter, followed by the maid. Their faces wear a genial smile, which freezes as soon as they see that the room is empty].
MAIRAUT. They are not here?
MAID. I will tell madame. [She goes out].
MME. MAIRAUT. Tell madame! [To her husband] They saw us coming.
MAIRAUT. You think so?
MME. MAIRAUT. Of course. Why was that lamp lighted? Not for an empty room, I imagine! I don’t think much of their furniture. Very poor. Very poor. [Lifts up a piece of stuff from the back of an armchair] This chair has been re-covered.
MAIRAUT [at the bowl with the visiting cards] They know some good people.
MME. MAIRAUT. Let me see. [She looks at the bowl]. Those cards were put there expressly for us not an hour ago.
MAIRAUT. Oh, come!
MME. MAIRAUT. Look! The top ones are all new. The underneath ones are quite yellow.
MAIRAUT. Because the underneath ones are older.
MME. MAIRAUT. Because the underneath ones have been left out ever since New Year’s Day, while these are just printed. We must be careful. Above all things, don’t you make a fool of yourself.
MAIRAUT. All right.
MME. MAIRAUT. Don’t let them think you’re set on this marriage.
MAIRAUT. I understand.
MME. MAIRAUT. Get them to offer that all moneys shall be held jointly.
MAIRAUT. Yes.
MME. MAIRAUT. And to work this, insist on separate settlements.
MAIRAUT. Yes.
MME. MAIRAUT. For the rest, do as you usually do. Say as little as possible.
MAIRAUT. But—
MME. MAIRAUT. You know well enough that’s the only way you ever do succeed with things.
MAIRAUT. But there’s something I want to say to you.
MME. MAIRAUT. Then it’s sure to be something stupid. However, we have nothing better to do. Go on.
MAIRAUT. It’s what I spoke to you about before. It’s been worrying me a good deal. If the Duponts give us their daughter, who has probably a dot of twenty-five thousand francs—
MME. MAIRAUT. Twenty or twentyfive thousand, I expect.
MAIRAUT. Well, if they give her to us, who have nothing but the bank, it must be because they don’t know that Uncle Maréchal is ruined.
MME. MAIRAUT. Obviously. Nobody knows.
MAIRAUT. It isn’t honest not to tell them.
MME. MAIRAUT. Why?
MAIRAUT. Surely, my dear—
MME. MAIRAUT. If you’re going to tell them that, we may as well be off at once.
MAIRAUT. You see!
MME. MAIRAUT. I see that we ought to hold our tongues. Oh, yes: we ought. For if you have scruples about injuring the Duponts, I have scruples about injuring Uncle Maréchal.
MAIRAUT. What do you mean?
MME. MAIRAUT. We have no right to betray a secret. I’m sorry you shouldn’t have seen that I am quite as particular as you are; only I put my duty to my family before my duty to strangers. If I am wrong, say so.
MAIRAUT. But if they ask us point blank?
MME. MAIRAUT. Then we must consult Uncle Maréchal, since he is the principal person concerned.
MAIRAUT. In spite of all you say it seems to me—[He hesitates. A pause].
MME. MAIRAUT. Well, my dear, which is it to be? If you want us to go, let us go. You are the master. I have never forgotten it. Shall we go?
MAIRAUT [giving in, after a moment of painful indecision] Now that we are here, what would the Duponts think of us?
MME. MAIRAUT. And then we must remember that the eldest Dupont girl got into trouble and is now living a disreputable life in Paris. That will make them less difficult.
MAIRAUT. Hush!
Madame Dupont and Dupont enter the room. General greetings. ‘How do you do, dear madame? How are you? How good of you to call! Sit down,’ etc. All sit. Silence.
MME. MAIRAUT. My dear Madame Dupont, I will come straight to the point. The object of our visit is this. M. Mairaut and I think we have observed that mademoiselle, your daughter, has made an impression—how shall I put it? A certain impression on our son.
MAIRAUT. A certain impression. Yes.
MME. MAIRAUT. Antonin will join us here immediately, but of course we have said nothing to him about this.
DUPONT. Julie, of course, has not the least idea—
MME. DUPONT. She is dressing. We are going to the ball at the Gontiers’ to-night, and the dear child asked if she might dress before dinner.
DUPONT. Not that she is vain.
MME. DUPONT. Not the least in the world.
DUPONT [to his wife, in an off-hand tone] She makes her own dresses, doesn’t she?
MME. DUPONT. Of course. In this house we don’t know what it is to have a bill from the dressmaker.
DUPONT. Yet with all her other occupations she’s an excellent musician.
MME. DUPONT. Quite excellent. She has a passion for really good music. She knows Wagner thoroughly.
MME. MAIRAUT. Wagner! Good heavens!
MME. DUPONT. To talk about, I mean.
MME. MAIRAUT. I know your daughter is charming.
MME. DUPONT. And good, too. You would never believe how responsive that poor child is to affection!
DUPONT [to Mairaut, offering the box] Have a cigar?
MAIRAUT. No, thanks. I never smoke before dinner.
DUPONT. Take one, all the same. You can smoke it afterwards. They are my usual brand, but pretty fair.
MAIRAUT [taking one] Thank you.
MME. MAIRAUT. If Antonin is not married already it is because his father and I wished him to find a wife who is worthy of him. The question of money, with us, is of secondary importance.
MME. DUPONT. And with us. I’m so glad we agree about that.
MME. MAIRAUT. Antonin might have made quite a number of good matches.
DUPONT. It is just the same with Julie. In spite of that unfortunate affair in the family.
MAIRAUT. Yes, we know.
MME. MAIRAUT. Unfortunate affair? We have heard nothing of any unfortunate affair. What are you saying, my dear?
MAIRAUT [mumbling confusedly] I was saying—nothing—I was saying—No, I wasn’t saying anything.
MME. MAIRAUT [to Madame Dupont] Then there has been some unfortunate affair in your family?
DUPONT. Yes. By my first marriage I had two daughters. One, that great fool of a Caroline whom you know.
MME. MAIRAUT. Quite well. She remains unmarried, does she not?
DUPONT. She prefers it. That’s the only reason. The other was called Angèle. When she was seventeen she was guilty of an indiscretion which it became impossible to hide. I turned her out of my house. [Quite sincerely] I was deeply distressed at having to do it.
MME. DUPONT. For three days he refused to eat anything.
DUPONT. Yes, I was terribly distressed. But I knew my duty as a man of honor, and I did it.
MME. MAIRAUT. It was noble of you! [She shakes him warmly by the hand].
MAIRAUT. Since you were so fond of her, perhaps it would have been better to keep her with you.
MME. MAIRAUT. My dear, you are speaking without thinking. [To Dupont] And what has become of her?
DUPONT [lying fluently] She’s in India.
MME. DUPONT. In India?
DUPONT [to Madame Dupont] Yes, with her aunt, a sister of my first wife’s. I have had news of her from time to time. [To Madame Mairaut] Indirectly, of course.
MME. MAIRAUT. I repeat, M. Dupont, all this does you honor. [Thoughtfully] Still, some people might feel—However, I don’t think this discovery need make us abandon our project at once. Not at once. [To Mairaut] What do you think, my dear?
MAIRAUT. I?
MME. MAIRAUT. You think, as I do, that we must take time to consider, do you not? [A pause]. Without any definite promise on either side, but merely in order to get rid of all money questions, which are most distasteful to me, will you allow me to ask you one question, M. Dupont?
DUPONT. Certainly, Madame Mairaut.
MME. MAIRAUT. Have you ever considered [she hesitates] what you would give your daughter?
DUPONT. Oh, yes—roughly, you know.
MAIRAUT. Just so.
MME. MAIRAUT. And the sum is—roughly?
DUPONT. Fifty thousand francs.
MME. MAIRAUT. Fifty thousand francs. [To her husband] You hear, dear, M. Dupont will give his daughter only fifty thousand francs.
MAIRAUT. Yes. [A pause].
MME. MAIRAUT. In cash, of course.
DUPONT. Twentyfive thousand at once. Twentyfive thousand in six months.
MME. MAIRAUT [to Mairaut] You hear?
MAIRAUT. Yes.
MME. MAIRAUT. For practical purposes that is only twentyfive thousand francs and a promise.
DUPONT [with dignity]. Twentyfive thousand francs and my word.
MME. MAIRAUT. Precisely. That is what I said [looking at her husband]. Under these circumstances, we regret very much, but M. Mairaut must decline. It really is not enough.
DUPONT. How much are you giving M. Antonin?
MME. MAIRAUT. Not a sou! On that point we are quite decided and quite frank. As soon as he marries his father will take him into partnership, and his wife’s dot will be the capital which he will put into the business.
MAIRAUT. That is the exact position.
MME. MAIRAUT. Antonin will have nothing except what may come to him after our death.
MME. DUPONT. And I am glad to think you are both in excellent health.
MME. MAIRAUT [modestly] That is so.
MME. DUPONT [meditatively]. Hasn’t your son an uncle, by the way?
MME. MAIRAUT. Yes, madame.
MAIRAUT. Uncle Maréchal.
DUPONT. People say M. Maréchal has a great affection for M. Antonin.
MME. MAIRAUT. Yes.
MAIRAUT. Very great.
DUPONT. He is rich, too, people say.
MME. MAIRAUT. So they say.
MAIRAUT. However, we haven’t taken him into account, have we?
MME. DUPONT. Still, M. Maréchal would naturally leave everything to his nephew.
MAIRAUT & MME. MAIRAUT [together] Oh, certainly. We can promise that. He will leave him everything he has.
MME. DUPONT. M. Maréchal has considerable influence at the Prefecture, has he not?
MME. MAIRAUT. No doubt. But all this is really beside the mark. At twentyfive thousand francs we could not—
DUPONT. I am sorry.
MME. MAIRAUT. We are sorry, too. [She rises, saying to her husband] Come, my dear, we must be taking our leave.
DUPONT. I might, perhaps, go to thirty thousand.
MME. MAIRAUT. I am afraid fifty thousand is the lowest.
DUPONT. Let us split the difference. Thirty thousand and my country house at St. Laurent.
MME. MAIRAUT. But it is flooded two months out of the twelve.
DUPONT. Flooded! Never.
MME. MAIRAUT [to her husband] Well, my dear, what do you think?
MAIRAUT. Antonin is much attached to Mlle. Julie.
MME. MAIRAUT. Ah, yes, if it were not for that! [Seats herself] My poor boy! [She weeps].
MME. DUPONT. My poor little Julie! [She weeps].
MAIRAUT [to Dupont] You must excuse her. After all, it is her son.
DUPONT. My dear sir, I quite understand.
MME. MAIRAUT [wiping her eyes] And, of course, there would be the other twentyfive thousand in six months.
MME. DUPONT. Of course.
MME. MAIRAUT. Have you any views as to settlements?
DUPONT. On that point I have very definite ideas.
MAIRAUT. So have I.
DUPONT. The money on each side must be strictly settled.
MAIRAUT. Strictly settled? [A silence of astonishment].
DUPONT. Yes.
MAIRAUT. His and hers?
DUPONT. Certainly. You agree?
MAIRAUT. Oh, yes, I agree, I agree. Unless you preferred—
DUPONT. That all moneys should be held jointly?
MAIRAUT. Perhaps that would be—
DUPONT. Perhaps so. There is something distasteful, I might almost say sordid, about strict settlements.
MAIRAUT. That’s it. Something sordid.
DUPONT. They imply a certain distrust.
MAIRAUT. Yes, don’t they? Well, that’s agreed, then?
DUPONT. Quite. The moneys to be held jointly. All moneys, that is, that may come to them in the future. The first twentyfive thousand, of course, will be settled on Julie. They will form the dot.
MME. MAIRAUT. The second twentyfive thousand, which you will pay over in six months, to be held jointly.
DUPONT. Yes. We will draw up a little agreement.
MAIRAUT. Quite so.
Antonin Mairaut comes in. He is a handsome youth of twenty-eight, very correct in manner. Greetings are exchanged.
MME. MAIRAUT. Antonin. [To Dupont and Madame Dupont] You allow me?
MME. DUPONT. By all means.
MME. MAIRAUT [She draws Antonin aside and says to him in a low voice] It’s settled.
ANTONIN. How much?
MME. MAIRAUT. Thirty thousand, the house, and twentyfive thousand in six months.
ANTONIN. Good.
MME. MAIRAUT. Now you’ve only the girl to deal with.
ANTONIN. Is she romantic or matter of fact? I don’t quite know.
MME. MAIRAUT. Romantic. Raves about Wagner.
ANTONIN. Good heavens!
MME. MAIRAUT. So I said. But once she’s married and has children to look after—
ANTONIN. Children! Don’t go too fast. Children come pretty expensive nowadays. Troublesome, too.
MME. MAIRAUT. Never mind. Don’t cross her now. Later on, of course, you’ll be master.
ANTONIN. I rather think so.
MME. MAIRAUT [returning to Madame Dupont] My dear madame—
MME. DUPONT. Yes?
MME. MAIRAUT. He is afraid he may not please Mlle. Julie.
DUPONT. Absurd!
MME. MAIRAUT. The amount of the dot, too—
DUPONT. It is my last word. [To his wife] But what is Julie about? [He rings].
MME. DUPONT [rises] I will go and find her.
A maid enters.
DUPONT. Wait! [To the maid] Ask Mlle. Julie to come here if she is ready.
The maid goes out.
ANTONIN. I must tell you, monsieur and madame, how flattered I am to find that the preliminaries have been settled between you and my parents on this important question. I do not know what will be the issue, but—
MME. DUPONT. It is we, monsieur, who are flattered. But you’ll see Julie in a moment. Of course she knows nothing.
MME. MAIRAUT. We might leave them to talk a little together, perhaps?
MME. DUPONT. By all means. We are going to the ball at the Gontiers’. She asked to be allowed—Here she is. [Julie comes in. Madame Mairaut advances to meet her] There is a crease in your dress, dear. [She takes her apart, saying to the Mairauts] Will you excuse me?
JULIE [in a low tone] Well?
MME. DUPONT. It rests entirely with you. We are going to leave you to talk together. Remember, it may be your last chance. Don’t throw it away.
JULIE. I have thought it over and I don’t intend to do as Caroline did. So if, after we have had a talk—
MME. DUPONT. You’ll have to manage him a little. He has a great eye for business. If you could make him think you would be useful in the bank.
JULIE. But I hate figures.
MME. DUPONT. Once married you will do as you please. Tuck in that lace a bit. It’s a little soiled. [She tucks in the lace of Julie’s corsage]. And remember, between lovers there may be little things which he considers himself entitled to.
JULIE. I understand. They can see you whispering. Go to them. [Madame Dupont goes back to Madame Mairaut].
MME. MAIRAUT. What did she say?
MME. DUPONT. She has not the least suspicion at present.
MME. MAIRAUT. Let us leave them together. [Aloud] My dear M. Dupont, I have long wished to go over a printing office. May we?
DUPONT [delighted] If you will kindly come this way.
MAIRAUT. Thank you.
MME. MAIRAUT. But there really are too many of us. [Carelessly] The children might stay here, don’t you think, madame?
MME. DUPONT. By all means.
They go out.
ANTONIN [looking at the music on the piano] You are fond of Wagner, mademoiselle.
JULIE. I adore him.
ANTONIN. So do I.
JULIE. What a genius he is.
ANTONIN. Wonderful.
JULIE. For me he is the only composer.
ANTONIN. The greatest, certainly.
JULIE. No: the only one.
ANTONIN. Perhaps so. How nice it is we should have the same tastes in art! [Pause] Er—they have told you nothing, I understand?
JULIE. About what?
ANTONIN. Your parents, I mean. Mine have said nothing either.
JULIE. They have said nothing, of course, but I guessed.
ANTONIN. So did I. Then I may consider myself engaged to you?
JULIE. Oh, not yet. We must know each other better first.
ANTONIN. We have often danced together.
JULIE. Yes. But that’s hardly enough.
ANTONIN. It’s enough for me. Ever since the first time I saw you at the ball at the Prefecture.
JULIE. No. It was at the band, one Sunday, that your mother first introduced you to me.
ANTONIN. Was it? I forgot.
JULIE. I should like to know more about you. Will you—will you let me ask you some questions? It is not usual, perhaps, but—
ANTONIN. Certainly. Pray ask them.
JULIE. Are you fond of children?
ANTONIN. Passionately.
JULIE. Really and truly?
ANTONIN. Really and truly.
JULIE. I am quite crazy about them. For me children mean happiness. They are the one thing worth living for [wistfully]. But I think I have a higher idea of marriage than most girls. I want to have my mind satisfied as well as my heart.
ANTONIN. So do I.
JULIE. A marriage that is a mere business partnership seems to me horrible.
ANTONIN. Horrible! That’s just the word.
JULIE. And tell me, are you very fond of society?
ANTONIN. Not particularly. Are you?
JULIE. No.
ANTONIN. I am delighted to hear it. The fact is I am sick to death of parties and balls. Still, if it were necessary for business reasons: if it would help to get business for the bank, you wouldn’t mind?
JULIE. Of course not. What kind of business do you do at your bank?
ANTONIN. Oh, the usual kind.
JULIE. I have often read what is put up on the wall, Current Accounts, Bourse Quotations.
ANTONIN. Coupons cashed.
JULIE. That must be very interesting.
ANTONIN. Would you take an interest in all that?
JULIE. Of course. When I was little my father used to make me help him with his books.
ANTONIN. But now?
JULIE. Now, unfortunately, he has a clerk. I am sorry.
ANTONIN. Do you know that you are charming?
JULIE. So you told me once before.
ANTONIN. Yes: at that ball. You had on a dress just like this one. You are beautiful. Beautiful. [He seizes her hand].
JULIE [a little troubled] Please.
ANTONIN. Come. We are engaged, as good as married. Give me one kiss.
JULIE. No. No.
ANTONIN. Won’t you?
JULIE [frightened] No, I tell you.
ANTONIN. What beautiful arms you have. [He draws her towards him]. You remember how I adored you when we were dancing.
JULIE. Let me go.
ANTONIN [greatly excited, in a low voice] Don’t move. You are entrancing. [He kisses her upon the arm; she pulls it away sharply].
JULIE. Monsieur!
ANTONIN [angry] I beg your pardon, mademoiselle.
A very long silence.
JULIE [after looking at him for some time] I have vexed you?
ANTONIN. Well, when I see that you positively dislike me. [Julie, after a short inward struggle, goes to him].
JULIE [putting her arm to his lips with a resigned sadness, which she hides from him] Antonin.
ANTONIN [kissing her arm] Oh, I love you. I love you.
JULIE. Hush. They are coming back.
The Mairauts and Duponts come in again.
DUPONT. And when I have the contract from the Prefecture I shall double my business.
MAIRAUT. Excellent. Excellent.
MME. MAIRAUT. We must be going, dear madame. We have stayed far too long already. Are you coming, Antonin?
ANTONIN [to Julie, aloud, bowing profoundly] Mademoiselle. [In a low voice] My beloved Julie. [To his mother] She’s charming. I was charming, too, by the way. Wagner, children, every kind of romantic idiocy. And she believed me. [Aloud to Dupont] M. and Madame Dupont, my parents will have the honor of calling upon you to-morrow to ask on my behalf for the hand of Mlle. Julie.
DUPONT. Till to-morrow, then. Till to-morrow. [To Antonin] All sorts of messages to your uncle, if you see him.
ANTONIN. I shall not fail. [He bows. The Mairauts take their leave].
DUPONT [to Julie] That’s all right, then?
JULIE. Yes. I really do like him. I think I managed him pretty well too. Wagner. The bank. He thinks I’ve a perfect passion for banking.
DUPONT [laughing] Good. You’re my own daughter. Kiss me. And your father? He managed pretty well, I think. I have arranged that all moneys except your dot shall be held by you both jointly; so that if you are divorced, or if you die after Uncle Maréchal, your dot will come back to us, and half whatever he leaves. I call that a good day’s work. And at dessert we’ll drink a bottle of the best to the health of Madame Antonin Mairaut.
MME. DUPONT [embracing her] My poor little daughter.
DUPONT. Poor, indeed! She’s a very lucky girl. I wonder where that great stupid Caroline has got to. [He calls] Caroline. She is never here when one wants her. [He calls again] Caroline. She is hard at work painting Cupids on plates, I bet. [Caroline appears] Here she is. Great news. Your sister is engaged to be married.
CAROLINE. Julie. Is it true?
JULIE. Yes.
CAROLINE. Ah!
DUPONT. Is that all you have to say?
CAROLINE. I am very glad, very glad. [She bursts into tears].
DUPONT [astonished] What’s wrong with her? Crying! And she’s not even asked who he is. She’s to marry M. Antonin Mairaut, nephew of M. Maréchal.
MME. DUPONT. Don’t cry like that, my dear.
JULIE. Caroline.
CAROLINE [trying to restrain her sobs] Don’t mind me. It is only because I love you, dear. Now you at least will be happy.
JULIE [musing] Yes.
DUPONT [to himself] The moral of all this is that that little affair of Angèle’s is costing me an extra five thousand francs and my house at St. Laurent.