Léocadie. Hear you that, Henri?
Host. I really don't know who's to take your place here. Not a single one of my people has such precious inspirations as you have, not one of them is so popular with my audience as you ... don't go away.
Henri. I can quite believe that no one will take my place.
Host. Stay by me, Henri. (Throws Léocadie a look; she intimates that she will arrange matters.)
Henri. And I can promise you that they will take my departure to heart—they, not I. For tonight—for my final appearance I have reserved something that will make them all shudder ... a foreboding of the end of this world will come over them ... for the end of their world is nigh. But I shall only experience it from a safe distance ... they will tell us about it out there, Léocadie, many days after it has happened.... But I tell you, they will shudder. And you yourself will say, "Henri has never played so well."
Host. What are you going to play? What? Do you know what, Léocadie?
Léocadie. I never know anything.
Henri. But has anyone any idea of what an artist lies hidden within me?
Host. They certainly have an idea, and that's why I tell you that a man with a talent such as yours doesn't go and bury himself in the country. What an injustice to yourself! and to Art!
Henri. I don't care a straw about Art. I wish for quiet. You don't understand that, Prosper; you have never loved—