Roger. Who, indeed?
Duchess. (Seeing Madame de Céran, as she approaches them) Your mother!
Mme. de Céran. How is this, Roger, aren’t you supposed to be at work?
Roger. No, Mother, I——
Mme. de Céran. Well, well, what about your Tumuli?
Roger. I have plenty of time: I can work on it to-night, and later in the week.
Mme. de Céran. The idea! The Minister is waiting!
Roger. Let him wait, Mother! (He goes away)
Mme. de Céran. (Stupefied) Duchess, what does this mean?
Duchess. Tell me, isn’t someone going to read us some sort of nonsense this evening? Some tragedy——?