Saint Nicholas.—
Yes, I hear him too——
(Saint Nicholas and Saint Rose resume their statuesque attitude, standing in front of the hearth, hiding the toys. The bright light dies out. Enter Pierre. He has evidently been drinking.)
Pierre.—
It’s me—Ho, Jacqueline—it’s not my fault!
I didn’t really want to stay, but friends——
How late is it?
(Without waiting for an answer, and not seeing Jacqueline as she lies asleep, he falls heavily into a chair.)
Ah, Saints of Heaven, help!
I have not drunk so much since Trinity!