Marcaire. No, Dumont, you had not; do not seek to impose upon my simplicity. What you did think was this, Dumont: for the sake of this noble father, for the sake of this son whom he denies for his own interest—I mean, for his interest—no, I mean, for his own—well, anyway, in order to keep up the general atmosphere of sacrifice and nobility, I must hand over this dowry to the Baron Henri-Frédéric de Latour de Main de la Tonnerre de Brest.
| Dumont. Noble, O noble! Bertrand. Beautiful, O beautiful! | } | Together: each shaking him by the hand. |
Dumont. Now Charles is rich he needs it not. For whom could it more fittingly be set aside than for his noble father? I will give it you at once.
Bertrand. At once, at once!
Macaire (aside to Bertrand). Hang on. (Aloud.) Charles, Charles, my lost boy! (He falls weeping at L. table. Dumont enters the office and brings down cash-box to table R. He feels in all his pockets: Bertrand from behind him making signs to Macaire, which the latter does not see.)
Dumont. That’s strange. I can’t find the key. It’s a patent key.
Bertrand (behind Dumont, making signs to Macaire). The key, he can’t find the key.
Macaire. O, yes, I remember. I heard it drop. (Drops key.) And here it is before my eyes.
Dumont. That? That’s yours. I saw it drop.
Macaire. I give you my word of honour I heard it fall five minutes back.