Page:Poet Lore, volume 28, 1917.djvu/17

Rh :Félix. — He's as deaf as a post, watch me! (To .) You're going to the wedding, young man? You're going to dance a hornpipe? What a pity! (Offering him a chair.) Go to bed!


 * Vézinet. — Thanks, Friend, thanks; first I thought they were to gather at the Registry; but I found out it was here; so I came.


 * Félix. — Ah, yes, Mr. Palisse died; died of an epidemic...


 * Vézinet. — No; not afoot; I came in a cab! (Handing the hat box to ). Here, take this into the bridal chamber. It's my wedding present. Take care, it's fragile!


 * Virginie. — Now, we'll have a look at the presents! (Bowing to ) Au revoir, Deafie! (She enters at the left, second door, with the box.)


 * Vézinet. — She's all right, that girl... Well, it's fun to meet a pretty minx...


 * Félix (Offering a chair). — The idea! and at your age! Enough of that, Rascal, enough of that!


 * Vézinet. — Thanks (Aside). He's the right sort, this fellow!


 * (Enter, from the rear, talking to the wings.)


 * Fadinard. — Dismiss the cab! (Faces scene.) Well, here is a scrape!... Cost me twenty francs... well, I don't care... Félix!


 * Félix. — Yes, Sir!


 * Fadinard. — Imagine —


 * Félix. — You're alone — and the party?


 * Fadinard. — It's on the way from Charentonneau in eight cabs... I came on ahead to see that nothing was wrong in my little nest. Have the upholsterers gone? Did the presents arrive?


 * Félix (Pointing to the room, second at the left). — Yes, Sir, they are all in there...


 * Fadinard. — All right! Imagine that I left Charentonneau, at eight, this morning...


 * Vézinet (To himself). — My nephew is behind time.


 * Fadinard (Catching sight of, to ). — Get out! I've somebody better to talk to! ( withdraws up stage; begins again). — Imagine, that —


 * Vézinet. — Nephew, let me congratulate you... (Tries to kiss him.)


 * Fadinard. — Eh? What's this? Oh, yes! (Kissing aside.) They do a deal of kissing in my wife's family...! (Aloud, in declamatory tone.) I left Charentonneau at eight, this morning...