Mme. Catherine.  Monsieur Maurice isn’t nasty at all.  So far nobody has been kinder than he to those that love him and trust in him.

Maurice.  Sh, sh, sh!

Henriette. [To Maurice] The old lady is rather impertinent.

Maurice.  We can walk over to the boulevard, if you care to do so.

Henriette.  With pleasure.  This is not the place for me.  I can just feel their hatred clawing at me. [Goes out.]

Maurice. [Starts after her] Good-bye, Madame Catherine.

Mme. Catherine.  A moment!  May I speak a word to you, Monsieur
Maurice?

Maurice. [Stops unwillingly] What is it?

Mme. Catherine.  Don’t do it!  Don’t do it!

Maurice.  What?

Mme. Catherine.  Don’t do it!

Maurice.  Don’t be scared.  This lady is not my kind, but she interests me.  Or hardly that even.

Mme. Catherine, Don’t trust yourself!

Maurice.  Yes, I do trust myself.  Good-bye. [Goes out.]

(Curtain.)

ACT II

FIRST SCENE

(The Auberge des Adrets:  a cafe in sixteenth century style, with a suggestion of stage effect.  Tables and easy-chairs are scattered in corners and nooks.  The walls are decorated with armour and weapons.  Along the ledge of the wainscoting stand glasses and jugs.)

(Maurice and Henriette are in evening dress and sit facing each other at a table on which stands a bottle of champagne and three filled glasses.  The third glass is placed at that side of the table which is nearest the background, and there an easy-chair is kept ready for the still missing “third man.”)

Maurice. [Puts his watch in front of himself on the table] If he doesn’t get here within the next five minutes, he isn’t coming at all.  And suppose in the meantime we drink with his ghost. [Touches the third glass with the rim of his own.]

Henriette. [Doing the same] Here’s to you, Adolphe!

Maurice.  He won’t come.

Henriette.  He will come.

Maurice.  He won’t.

Henriette.  He will.

Maurice.  What an evening!  What a wonderful day!  I can hardly grasp that a new life has begun.  Think only:  the manager believes that I may count on no less than one hundred thousand francs.  I’ll spend twenty thousand on a villa outside the city.  That leaves me eighty thousand.  I won’t be able to take it all in until to-morrow, for I am tired, tired, tired. [Sinks back into the chair] Have you ever felt really happy?

Henriette.  Never.  How does it feel?

Maurice.  I don’t quite know how to put it.  I cannot express it, but I seem chiefly to be thinking of the chagrin of my enemies.  It isn’t nice, but that’s the way it is.