Notary. Ay, there’s the rub.
Dumont. But what am I to do? He’s not my son, I tell you: Charles is not my son.
Notary. I know.
Dumont. Perhaps a glass of wine would clear him?
Notary. That’s what I want. (They go out, L.U.E.)
Aline. And now, if you’ve done deranging my table, to the cellar for the wine, the whole pack of you. (Manet sola, considering table.) There! it’s like a garden. If I had as sweet a table for my wedding, I would marry the Notary.
SCENE III
The Stage remains vacant. Enter, by door L.C., Macaire, followed by Bertrand with the bundle; in the traditional costume
Macaire. Good! No police!