Thank you so much for thinking of me, dear; I appreciate it, but for the time being, I'll—consider.
Marcel. Have you made up your mind?
Madeleine. We shall see later; I'll think it over—perhaps! Yet, I rather doubt if—. You haven't been nice to me to-day, your open honest face hasn't pleased me at all. You're so carelessly dressed! I don't think you're interesting any more. No, I hardly think so!
Marcel. But, Madeleine—
Madeleine. Don't call me Madeleine.
Marcel. Madame Guérin! Madame Guérin! if I told you how much your note meant to me! How excited I was! I trembled when I read it!
Madeleine. I'll warrant you read it before your wife?
Marcel. It was so charming of you!
Madeleine. How depraved you are!
Marcel. How well you know me!
Madeleine. Fool!
Marcel. I adore you!
Madeleine. That's merely a notion of yours! You imagine, since you haven't seen me for so long—I've just come back from a long trip!
Marcel. Don't shake my faith in you!
Madeleine. Think of your duties, my dear; don't forget—
Marcel. My children? I have none.
Madeleine. Your wife.
Marcel [in desperation]. You always speak of her!
Madeleine. Love her, my friend, and if my husband doesn't kill you to-morrow, continue to love her in peace and quiet. You are made for a virtuous life now—any one can see that. I flatter you when I consider you a libertine. You've been spoiled by too much happiness, that's the trouble with you!
Marcel [trying to kiss her]. Madeleine, if you only—!
Madeleine [evading him]. Are you out of your wits?
Marcel. Forgive me: I haven't quite forgotten! Well, if I am killed it will be for a good reason.
Madeleine. Poor dear!
Marcel. It will! This duel is going to compromise you fearfully. Come now, every one will accuse you to-morrow; what difference does it make to you?
Madeleine. I'm not in the mood!
Marcel. Now you are lying!
Madeleine. I don't love you.
Marcel. Nonsense! You're sulking!
Madeleine. How childish! Don't touch me! You want me to be unfaithful to everybody! Never! [Changing.] Yet—! No; it would be too foolish! Good-by.
Marcel [kissing her as she tries to pass him]. Not before—
Madeleine. Oh, you've mussed my hat; how awkward of you! [Trying to escape from Marcel's embrace.] Let me go!
Marcel [jokingly]. Let you go? In a few days!
Madeleine. Good-by. My husband may come any moment.
Marcel. Are you afraid?
Madeleine. Yes, I'm afraid he might forgive me!
Marcel. One minute more!
Madeleine. No! I have just time. I'm going away this evening—
Marcel. Going away?
Madeleine. To London.
Marcel. With—him, the other?
Madeleine. I hope so.
Marcel. Who knows? He may be waiting for you this moment at Madame de Montglat's, your aunt's—
Madeleine. They are playing cards together.
Marcel. The way we are! What a family!
Madeleine. Impudent!
Marcel. That's why you came.
Madeleine [about to leave]. Shall I go out through the models' door, as I used to?
Marcel. If I were still a bachelor you wouldn't leave me this way! You would miss your train this evening, I'll tell you that!
Madeleine. You may very well look at that long sofa! No, no, my dear: not to-day, thanks!
Marcel. In an hour, then, at Madame de Montglat's!
Madeleine. Take care, or I'll make you meet your successor!
Marcel. Then I can see whether you are still a woman of taste.
Madeleine. Ah, men are very—I'll say the word after I leave. [She goes out through the little door.]
Marcel [alone]. "Men are very—!" If we were, the women would have a very stupid time of it!
[He is about to follow Madeleine.]
[Enter Françoise.]
Françoise. Who was that stylish looking woman who just left, Marcel?
Marcel [embarrassed]. Madame Jackson, my American friend.
Françoise. Well?
Marcel. My picture? Sold!
Françoise. Ten thousand? Splendid! Don't you think so? You don't seem very happy!
Marcel. The idea!
[He picks up his hat.]
Françoise [jealously]. Are you going to leave me?
Marcel. I am just going to Goupil's and tell him.
Françoise. Then I'll have to lunch all by myself! [Marcel stops an instant before the mirror.] You look lovely.
Marcel [turning round]. I—
Françoise. Oh, you'll succeed!
[A pause.]
Marcel [enchanted, in spite of himself]. What can you be thinking of! [Aside.] What if she were after all my happiness? [Reproachfully.] Now, Françoise—
Françoise. I was only joking.
Marcel [ready to leave]. No moping, remember? I can't have that!
Françoise. I know!
Marcel [tenderly. He stands at the threshold. Aside]. Poor child! Well I may fail!
[He goes out, left.]
Françoise [sadly]. Where is he going? Probably to a rendezvous. Oh, if he is! Will my luck fail me to-day? Soon he'll come back again, so well satisfied with himself! I talk to him so much about my resignation, I wonder whether he believes in it? Why must I be tormented this way forever?
[Enter Jean, with a visiting-card.]
Jean. Is Monsieur here?
Françoise. Let me see!
[She takes the card.]
Jean. The gentleman is waiting, Madame.
Françoise. Ask him to come in. Quick, now!
[Jean goes out.]
[Enter Guérin, at the back. As he sees Françoise he hesitates before coming to her.]
Françoise [cordially]. Come in, Monsieur. I have never seen you, but I already know you very well.
Guérin [a large, strong man, with grayish hair]. Thank you, Madame. I thought I should find Monsieur Desroches at home. If you will excuse me—
Françoise. I beg you!
Guérin. I fear I am intruding: it's so early.