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.