Mme. Catherine.  So it’s tonight the great event comes off, Monsieur Maurice?

Maurice.  Yes, tonight.

Mme. Catherine.  Do you feel upset?

Maurice.  Cool as a cucumber.

Mme. Catherine.  Well, I wish you luck anyhow, and you have deserved it, Monsieur Maurice, after having had to fight against such difficulties as yours.

Maurice.  Thank you, Madame Catherine.  You have been very kind to me, and without your help I should probably have been down and out by this time.

Mme. Catherine.  Don’t let us talk of that now.  I help along where I see hard work and the right kind of will, but I don’t want to be exploited—­Can we trust you to come back here after the play and let us drink a glass with you?

Maurice.  Yes, you can—­of course, you can, as I have already promised you.

(Henriette enters from the right.)

(Maurice turns around, raises his hat, and stares at Henriette, who looks him over carefully.)

Henriette.  Monsieur Adolphe is not here yet?

Mme. Catherine.  No, madame.  But he’ll soon be here now.  Won’t you sit down?

Henriette.  No, thank you, I’ll rather wait for him outside. [Goes out.]

Maurice.  Who—­was—­that?

Mme. Catherine.  Why, that’s Monsieur Adolphe’s friend.

Maurice.  Was—­that—­her?

Mme. Catherine.  Have you never seen her before?

Maurice.  No, he has been hiding her from me, just as if he was afraid I might take her away from him.

Mme. Catherine.  Ha-ha!—­Well, how did you think she looked?

Maurice.  How she looked?  Let me see:  I can’t tell—­I didn’t see her, for it was as if she had rushed straight into my arms at once and come so close to me that I couldn’t make out her features at all.  And she left her impression on the air behind her.  I can still see her standing there. [He goes toward the door and makes a gesture as if putting his arm around somebody] Whew! [He makes a gesture as if he had pricked his finger] There are pins in her waist.  She is of the kind that stings!

Mme. Catherine.  Oh, you are crazy, you with your ladies!

Maurice.  Yes, it’s craziness, that’s what it is.  But do you know, Madame Catherine, I am going before she comes back, or else, or else—­Oh, that woman is horrible!

Mme. Catherine.  Are you afraid?

Maurice.  Yes, I am afraid for myself, and also for some others.

Mme. Catherine.  Well, go then.

Maurice.  She seemed to suck herself out through the door, and in her wake rose a little whirlwind that dragged me along—­Yes, you may laugh, but can’t you see that the palm over there on the buffet is still shaking?  She’s the very devil of a woman!