THE CANDOUR OF MATURITY
(The Marquis de la Mise-en-Scène is discovered writing at a little inlaid table. He is about 42 years of age, and looks worse than that. He believes himself to be alone in the room, when he is somewhat suddenly addressed from the open door by the Duchess de la Tour-de-Force, who has just entered. She is a woman of about 55, somewhat too commanding. The place is Versailles, and the time is 1753.)
The Duchess de la Tour-de-Force. What are you doing, Monsieur de la Mise-en-Scène?
The Marquis de la Mise-en-Scène (continuing to write and without turning round). I am writing, Duchess, as you can plainly see.
Duchess. Unfortunately I cannot see through your body, but I see you are seated at a table, and from the constrained attitude of your elbow and the awkward wagging of your head I can well believe that you are occupied as you say.
The Marquis (without turning round). Come, Duchess, would you have me jump up like a bourgeois? Shall I ask after your health, which I know to be robust, or murmur something polite about your niece? Shall I come and hold the door for you, or do any of those things to which you are used in provincial hotels? Or shall I go on writing? (He goes on writing.) (A pause.) (The Duchess walks into the room, shuts the door rather noisily, and sits down upon a chair. She sighs.)
The Marquis (still writing, murmuring to himself). "Indifferent"! Tut, tut, how does one spell "indifferent"? "You cannot be indifferent to my plea" ... "plea." ... I know how to spell "plea," but how does one spell "indifferent"? (Turning round for the first time to the Duchess and showing a set, half-ironical face, with thin lips and steady grey eyes.) Duchess, how do you spell "indifferent"?
Duchess (carelessly). Oh, I spell it sometimes one way, sometimes another. But I believe there are two f's.