The fact is, M. Donnay is carefully keeping a secret from us.  Philippe is not Helene’s first lover; her son, Georges, is not the child of her late husband; and Gotte, and Gotte alone, knows the truth.  Had we also been initiated from the outset (and nothing would have been easier or more natural—­three words exchanged between Gotte and Helene would have done it) we should have been at no loss to foresee the impending drama, and the sense of irony would have tripled the interest of the intervening scenes.  The effect of M. Donnay’s third act is not a whit more forcible because it comes upon us unprepared.  We learn at the beginning that Philippe’s austerity has not after all been proof against Gotte’s seductions; but it has now returned upon him embittered by remorse, and he treats Gotte with sternness approaching to contumely.  She takes her revenge by revealing Helene’s secret; he tells Helene that he knows it; and she, putting two and two together, divines how it has come to his knowledge.  This long scene of mutual reproach and remorseful misery is, in reality, the whole drama, and might have been cited in Chapter XIV as a fine example of a peripety.  Helene enters Philippe’s studio happy and serene, she leaves it broken-hearted; but the effect of the scene is not a whit greater because, in the two previous acts, we have been studiously deprived of the information that would have led us vaguely to anticipate it.

To sum up this question of secrecy:  the current maxim, “Never keep a secret from your audience,” would appear to be an over-simplification of a somewhat difficult question of craftsmanship.  We may agree that it is often dangerous and sometimes manifestly foolish to keep a secret; but, on the other hand, there is certainly no reason why the playwright should blurt out all his secrets at the first possible opportunity.  The true art lies in knowing just how long to keep silent, and just the right time to speak.  In the first act of Letty, Sir Arthur Pinero gains a memorable effect by keeping a secret, not very long, indeed, but long enough and carefully enough to show that he knew very clearly what he was doing.  We are introduced to Nevill Letchmere’s bachelor apartments.  Animated scenes occur between Letchmere and his brother-in-law, Letchmere and his sister, Letchmere and Letty, Marion and Hilda Gunning.  It is evident that Letty dreams of marriage with Letchmere; and for aught that we see or hear, there is no just cause or impediment to the contrary.  It is only, at the end of the very admirable scene between Letchmere and Mandeville that the following little passage occurs: 

  MANDEVILLE:  ...  At all events I am qualified to tell her I’m
  fairly gone on her—­honourably gone on her—­if I choose to do it.

  LETCHMERE:  Qualified?

  MANDEVILLE:  Which is more than you are, Mr. Letchmere.  I am a
  single man; you ain’t, bear in mind.

  LETCHMERE:  (imperturbably):  Very true.