"Well," I resumed, "as you probably did not hunt me out to receive the compliment I have just given you, tell me why you did."
"To talk to you about a play which Goubaux and I did not feel equal to bringing to a satisfactory conclusion, but which, in your hands, would become—plus the style—equal to the Joueur."
I bowed my thanks.
"No, upon my word of honour, I am certain the idea will take your fancy!" continued Beudin.
"Have you any part done or is it still in a nebulous state?"
"We have done the prologue, which is in quite a tangible shape.... But, as for the rest, you must help us to do it."
"Have you the prologue with you?"
"No, nothing is written down yet; but I can relate it to you."
"I am listening."
"The scene is laid in Northumberland, about 1775. An old physician whom, if you will, we will call Dr. Grey and his wife separate, the wife to go to bed, the husband to work part of the night. Scarcely has the wife closed the door of her room, before a carriage stops under the doctor's windows and a man inquires for a doctor. Dr. Grey reveals his profession; the travellers asks hospitality for some one who cannot go any further. The doctor opens his door and a masked man, carrying a woman in his arms, enters upon the scene, telling the postilion to unharness the horses and hide both them and the carriage."