I feel about him, too, but as soon as there is
a woman in it, a man isn't himself any longer.

EMILE. [Smiling] You don't tell me! But listen: are you hard up
for money?

JEANNE. No, nothing of that kind.

EMILE. Well, then the worst hasn't come yet--Look! Over there!
There he comes. And I'll leave you. Good-bye, little girl.

JEANNE. Is he coming? Yes, that's him.

EMILE. Don't make him mad now--with your jealousy, Jeanne! [Goes
out.]

JEANNE. No, I won't.

(MAURICE enters.)

MARION. [Runs up to him and is lifted up into his arms] Papa,
papa!

MAURICE. My little girl! [Greets JEANNE] Can you forgive me,
Jeanne, that I have kept you waiting so long?

JEANNE. Of course I can.

MAURICE. But say it in such a way that I can hear that you are
forgiving me.

JEANNE. Come here and let me whisper it to you.

(MAURICE goes up close to her.)

(JEANNE kisses him on the cheek.)

MAURICE. I didn't hear.

(JEANNE kisses him on the mouth.)

MAURICE. Now I heard! Well--you know, I suppose that this is the
day that will settle my fate? My play is on for tonight, and there
is every chance that it will succeed--or fail.

JEANNE. I'll make sure of success by praying for you.

MAURICE. Thank you. If it doesn't help, it can at least do no
harm--Look over there, down there in the valley, where the haze is
thickest: there lies Paris. Today Paris doesn't know who Maurice
is, but it is going to know within twenty-four hours. The haze,
which has kept me obscured for thirty years, will vanish before my
breath, and I shall become visible, I shall assume definite shape
and begin to be somebody. My enemies--which means all who would
like to do what I have done--will be writhing in pains that shall
be my pleasures, for they will be suffering all that I have
suffered.

JEANNE. Don't talk that way, don't!

MAURICE. But that's the way it is.

JEANNE. Yes, but don't speak of it--And then?

MAURICE. Then we are on firm ground, and then you and Marion will
bear the name I have made famous.

JEANNE. You love me then?

MAURICE. I love both of you, equally much, or perhaps Marion a
little more.

JEANNE. I am glad of it, for you can grow tired of me, but not of
her.

MAURICE. Have you no confidence in my feelings toward you?

JEANNE. I don't know, but I am afraid of something, afraid of
something terrible--

MAURICE. You are tired out and depressed by your long wait, which
once more I ask you to forgive. What have yo