Maurice.  But say it in such a way that I can hear that you are forgiving me.

Jeanne.  Come here and let me whisper it to you.

(Maurice goes up close to her.)

(Jeanne kisses him on the cheek.)

Maurice.  I didn’t hear.

(Jeanne kisses him on the mouth.)

Maurice.  Now I heard!  Well—­you know, I suppose that this is the day that will settle my fate?  My play is on for tonight, and there is every chance that it will succeed—­or fail.

Jeanne.  I’ll make sure of success by praying for you.

Maurice.  Thank you.  If it doesn’t help, it can at least do no harm—­Look over there, down there in the valley, where the haze is thickest:  there lies Paris.  Today Paris doesn’t know who Maurice is, but it is going to know within twenty-four hours.  The haze, which has kept me obscured for thirty years, will vanish before my breath, and I shall become visible, I shall assume definite shape and begin to be somebody.  My enemies—­which means all who would like to do what I have done—­will be writhing in pains that shall be my pleasures, for they will be suffering all that I have suffered.

Jeanne.  Don’t talk that way, don’t!

Maurice.  But that’s the way it is.

Jeanne.  Yes, but don’t speak of it—­And then?

Maurice.  Then we are on firm ground, and then you and Marion will bear the name I have made famous.

Jeanne.  You love me then?

Maurice.  I love both of you, equally much, or perhaps Marion a little more.

Jeanne.  I am glad of it, for you can grow tired of me, but not of her.

Maurice.  Have you no confidence in my feelings toward you?

Jeanne.  I don’t know, but I am afraid of something, afraid of something terrible—­

Maurice.  You are tired out and depressed by your long wait, which once more I ask you to forgive.  What have you to be afraid of?

Jeanne.  The unexpected:  that which you may foresee without having any particular reason to do so.

Maurice.  But I foresee only success, and I have particular reasons for doing so:  the keen instincts of the management and their knowledge of the public, not to speak of their personal acquaintance with the critics.  So now you must be in good spirits—­

Jeanne.  I can’t, I can’t!  Do you know, there was an Abbe here a while ago, who talked so beautifully to us.  My faith—­which you haven’t destroyed, but just covered up, as when you put chalk on a window to clean it—­I couldn’t lay hold on it for that reason, but this old man just passed his hand over the chalk, and the light came through, and it was possible again to see that the people within were at home—­To-night I will pray for you at St. Germain.

Maurice.  Now I am getting scared.