Cocotte [sympathetically]. How interestingly you talk. I love Americans.
American. We have two kinds of neighborly love back home. Neighborly love that makes for entertaining and dancing, and neighborly love that you read about next day in the newspapers.
Omnes [Workingman who has just entered.] [Right.] What's the matter here? [Elbows his way through the crowd.] Make way there! Let me through! [Throws off coat, tightens his belt, spits in his hand and jumps into the water.] [Great excitement.]
Young Man [center]. [Ecstatically.] A hero! A hero!
American [loudly but indifferently]. I'll bet sixty dollars that both of them drown!—Seventy! Seventy-five! [Contemptuously.] I can't get a bet around here. I'm going back to America.
[The Artist goes into the crowd.]
Cocotte [at table Left, alone with American]. Going back so soon?
American. As soon as I have seen Paris. Wouldn't you like to show me the town? I'll meet you to-morrow at four in front of the Opera House.
Cocotte. I'll be there. I like Americans.
The Mob [cheering]. He's got him! Hurrah! [The pole is outstretched.]