My dear good husband, once so kind, neglects
And leaves me all alone. Is it his fault?
What most I fear is that his weakness will
Destroy him! Now no doubt he sits and drinks
In some low wine-shop: thus he spends his nights.
My Pierre! My genius! Lord in Heaven, hear!
(She looks at Rosette’s shoes by the hearth.)
I fear he’ll bring no presents for Rosette——
Her Christmas will be sad without her toys.
He wanted so to buy some toy to make