Marion.  Mamma, I want to go home, for I am hungry.

Jeanne.  Just a little longer, dear, and we’ll go home.

Abbe.  Woe unto those who call evil good and good evil.

Jeanne.  What is that woman doing at the grave over there?

Abbe.  She seems to be talking to the dead.

Jeanne.  But you cannot do that?

Abbe.  She seems to know how.

Jeanne.  This would mean that the end of life is not the end of our misery?

Abbe.  And you don’t know it?

Jeanne.  Where can I find out?

Abbe.  Hm!  The next time you feel as if you wanted to learn about this well-known matter, you can look me up in Our Lady’s Chapel at the Church of St. Germain—­Here comes the one you are waiting for, I guess.

Jeanne. [Embarrassed] No, he is not the one, but I know him.

Abbe. [To Marion] Good-bye, little Marion!  May God take care of you! [Kisses the child and goes out] At St. Germain des Pres.

Emile. [Enters] Good morning, sister.  What are you doing here?

Jeanne.  I am waiting for Maurice.

Emile.  Then I guess you’ll have a lot of waiting to do, for I saw him on the boulevard an hour ago, taking breakfast with some friends. [Kissing the child] Good morning, Marion.

Jeanne.  Ladies also?

Emile.  Of course.  But that doesn’t mean anything.  He writes plays, and his latest one has its first performance tonight.  I suppose he had with him some of the actresses.

Jeanne.  Did he recognise you?

Emile.  No, he doesn’t know who I am, and it is just as well.  I know my place as a workman, and I don’t care for any condescension from those that are above me.

Jeanne.  But if he leaves us without anything to live on?

Emile.  Well, you see, when it gets that far, then I suppose I shall have to introduce myself.  But you don’t expect anything of the kind, do you—­seeing that he is fond of you and very much attached to the child?

Jeanne.  I don’t know, but I have a feeling that something dreadful is in store for me.

Emile.  Has he promised to marry you?

Jeanne.  No, not promised exactly, but he has held out hopes.

Emile.  Hopes, yes!  Do you remember my words at the start:  don’t hope for anything, for those above us don’t marry downward.

Jeanne.  But such things have happened.

Emile.  Yes, they have happened.  But, would you feel at home in his world?  I can’t believe it, for you wouldn’t even understand what they were talking of.  Now and then I take my meals where he is eating—­out in the kitchen is my place, of course—­and I don’t make out a word of what they say.

Jeanne.  So you take your meals at that place?