(They sit down. Embarrassed silence follows.)
HENRIETTE. [To ADOLPHE] Well, are you not going to congratulate Maurice on his great success?
ADOLPHE. Oh, yes! Your success is the real thing, and envy itself cannot deny it. Everything is giving way before you, and even I have a sense of my own smallness in your presence.
MAURICE. Nonsense!—Henriette, are you not going to offer Adolphe a glass of wine?
ADOLPHE. Thank you, not for me—nothing at all!
HENRIETTE. [To ADOLPHE] What's the matter with you? Are you ill?
ADOLPHE. Not yet, but—
HENRIETTE. Your eyes—
ADOLPHE. What of them?
MAURICE. What happened at the Cremerie last night? I suppose they are angry with me?