Maurice.  And I, on the other hand, am rather callous toward the sufferings both of myself and others.

Adolphe.  Now he is not telling the truth about himself.  Or what do you say, Madame Catherine?

Mme. Catherine.  I don’t know of anybody with a softer heart than Monsieur Maurice.  He came near calling in the police because I didn’t give the goldfish fresh water—­those over there on the buffet.  Just look at them:  it is as if they could hear what I am saying.

Maurice.  Yes, here we are making ourselves out as white as angels, and yet we are, taking it all in all, capable of any kind of polite atrocity the moment glory, gold, or women are concerned—­So you are a sculptor, Mademoiselle Henriette?

Henriette.  A bit of one.  Enough to do a bust.  And to do one of you—­which has long been my cherished dream—­I hold myself quite capable.

Maurice.  Go ahead!  That dream at least need not be long in coming true.

Henriette.  But I don’t want to fix your features in my mind until this evening’s success is over.  Not until then will you have become what you should be.

Maurice.  How sure you are of victory!

Henriette.  Yes, it is written on your face that you are going to win this battle, and I think you must feel that yourself.

Maurice.  Why do you think so?

Henriette.  Because I can feel it.  This morning I was ill, you know, and now I am well.

(Adolphe begins to look depressed.)

Maurice. [Embarrassed] Listen, I have a single ticket left—­only one.  I place it at your disposal, Adolphe.

Adolphe.  Thank you, but I surrender it to Henriette.

Henriette.  But that wouldn’t do?

Adolphe.  Why not?  And I never go to the theatre anyhow, as I cannot stand the heat.

Henriette.  But you will come and take us home at least after the show is over.

Adolphe.  If you insist on it.  Otherwise Maurice has to come back here, where we shall all be waiting for him.

Maurice.  You can just as well take the trouble of meeting us.  In fact, I ask, I beg you to do so—­And if you don’t want to wait outside the theatre, you can meet us at the Auberge des Adrets—­ That’s settled then, isn’t it?

Adolphe.  Wait a little.  You have a way of settling things to suit yourself, before other people have a chance to consider them.

Maurice.  What is there to consider—­whether you are to see your lady home or not?

Adolphe.  You never know what may be involved in a simple act like that, but I have a sort of premonition.

Henriette.  Hush, hush, hush!  Don’t talk of spooks while the sun is shining.  Let him come or not, as it pleases him.  We can always find our way back here.