Page:Poet Lore, volume 28, 1917.djvu/57

Rh You send us to bed in the house of a stranger  You allow your young wife ... in the house of a stranger. . . son-in-law, it's all off!

Fadinard.—You make me sick! (To Beauperthuis.) Sir, will you deign to overlook a slight mistake. ..

Nonancourt.—Let's put on our clothes, Bobin.

Bobin.—Yes, Uncle. ..

Fadinard.—That's it; let's go to my house. . . I'll go on, ahead of my wife. . . (Goes toward her; Beauperthuis restrains him.)

Beauperthuis (Sotto voce).—Sir, my wife has not come home!

Fadinard.—Then she's missed the 'bus. ..

Beauperthuis (Taking off his nightshirt and putting on his coat).—She is at your house. ..

Fadinard.—I don't think so. . . The lady there is a negress. . . Is your wife colored?

Beauperthuis.—Do you see anything green in my eye, Sir?

Fadinard.—I hadn't noticed. ..

Nonancourt.—Bobin, my sleeve!

Bobin.—Here, Uncle.

Beauperthuis (To Fadinard).—Where do you live, Sir?

Fadinard.—I don't live. ..

Nonancourt.—Number eight. ..

Fadinard (Hastily).—Don't tell him!

Nonancourt (Loudly).—Number eight, Baudoyer Square! Rascal!

Fadinard (Hopelessly).—All over!

Nonancourt.—Let's go, Daughter. ..

Bobin.—Let's all go!

Beauperthuis (Seizing Fadinard's arm).—Go, Sir!

Fadinard.—She's a negress!

Virginie (Entering by the door at the left, carries a cup upon a tray. Half opening the curtains of the alcove.)

Virginie.—Sir, here is your borage. ..

Vezinet (Rising up from his couch).—Thanks, I won't take anything.

Virginie (Dropping the cup).—Ah!

Vezinet.—Same to you; and many of them. (Falls back upon the couch; turns over.)