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