ver-anxious to emphasize the
acoustic relations of the two rooms.]

_CHAPTER XIII_

THE OBLIGATORY SCENE

I do not know whether it was Francisque Sarcey who invented the phrase
_scene a faire_; but it certainly owes its currency to that valiant
champion of the theatrical theatre, if I may so express it. Note that in
this term I intend no disrespect. My conception of the theatrical
theatre may not be exactly the same as M. Sarcey's; but at all events I
share his abhorrence of the untheatrical theatre.

What is the _scene a faire_? Sarcey has used the phrase so often, and in
so many contexts, that it is impossible to tie him down to any strict
definition. Instead of trying to do so, I will give a typical example of
the way in which he usually employs the term.

In _Les Fourchambault_, by Emile Augier, the first act introduces us to
the household of a merchant, of Havre, who has married a wealthy, but
extravagant woman, and has a son and daughter who are being gradually
corrupted by their mother's worldliness. We learn that Fourchambault,
senior, has, in his youth, betrayed a young woman who was a governess in
his family. He wanted to marry her, but his relations maligned her
character, and he cast her off; nor does he know what has become of her
and her child. In the second act we pass to the house of an energetic
and successful young shipowner named Bernard, who lives alone with his
mother. Bernard, as we divine, is secretly devoted to a young lady named
Marie Letellier, a guest in the Fourchambault house, to whom young
Leopold Fourchambault is paying undesirable attentions. One day Bernard
casually mentions to his mother that the house of Fourchambault is on
the verge of bankruptcy; nothing less than a quarter of a million francs
will enable it to tide over the crisis. Mme. Bernard, to her son's
astonishment, begs him to lend the tottering firm the sum required. He
objects that, unless the business is better managed, the loan will only
postpone the inevitable disaster. "Well, then, my son," she replied,
"you must go into partnership with M. Fourchambault." "I! with that
imbecile!" he exclaims. "My son," she says gravely, and emphatically,
"you must--it is your duty--I demand it of you!" "Ah!" cries Bernard. "I
understand--he is my father!"

After ecstatically lauding this situation and the scenes which have led
up to it, M. Sarcey continues--

When the curtain falls upon the words "He is my father," I