Marcel [tenderly]. Of course! And don't allow any black suspicion to get the better of you: I'm not lunching with anybody!
Françoise. I suspect you!
Marcel [gratefully]. 'Til later, then! [A pause. Frankly.] Of course, I don't always go where I tell you I'm going. Why should I worry you? But if you think I—do what I ought not to do, you are mistaken. I'm no longer a bachelor, you know.
Françoise. Just a trifle, aren't you?
Marcel. No jealousy, dear! The day of adventures is dead and buried. Thirty-five mortal years, a scarcity of hair, a noticeable rotundity—and married! Opportunities are fewer now!
Françoise [playfully]. Don't lose courage, your luck may return. A minute would suffice.
Marcel [mournfully]. I don't dare hope.
Françoise. Married! It was never your destiny to be a proprietor, you are doomed to be a tenant.
Marcel [as he is about to leave, sees a letter on the table]. Oh, a letter, and you said nothing to me about it!
Françoise. I didn't see it. Jean must have brought it while you were asleep.