Madame Vauberger peeps in L.
Madame Vauberger. No; he has not yet returned. [Enters.] Things cannot go on in this manner much longer—I shall have to speak out, and plainly too. And why not? Surely he won't take it ill from me—ah, no. I, who loved his poor mother so, could never—What's this? A purse! empty! And this key, left carelessly lying about; that's a bad sign. [Opens Secretaire.] No, not one solitary sous—his last coin came yesterday to pay me the rent. In the drawer, perhaps—
Dr. Desmarets looks in.
Dr. Desmarets. Hallo! [She starts.] What are you at there?
Mad. V. Me, sir? I was just—I was just—
Des. Poking your nose into that drawer—that what you call just?
Mad. V. I was dusting and putting the things in order, sir.
Des. I'll tell you what, Madame V., you're an extraordinary woman. Yesterday, when I called, you were dusting—half-an-hour ago when I called, you were dusting—and now, when I call again, you're dusting. Where the devil you find so much dust to dust, I can't think.
Mad. V. Ah, sir, look into this drawer.
Des. What for?