re than any man can bear. First, Charles is one
man's son, and then he's another's, and then he's nobody's, and be
damned to him! And then there's my key lost; and then there's your key!
What is your key? Where is your key? Where isn't it? And why is it like
mine, only mine's a patent? The long and short of it is this: that I'm
going to bed, and that you're all going to bed, and that I refuse to
hear another word upon the subject or upon any subject. There!

MACAIRE. Bitten! \
> _Aside._
BERTRAND. Sold again! /

(_ALINE and MAIDS extinguish hanging lamps over tables, R. and L. Stage
lighted only by guests' candles._)

CHARLES. But, sir, I cannot decently retire to rest till I embrace my
honoured parent. Which is it to be?

MACAIRE. Charles, to my----

DUMONT. Embrace neither of them; embrace nobody; there has been too much
of this sickening folly. To bed!!! (_Exit violently R.U.E. All the
characters troop slowly upstairs, talking in dumb show. BERTRAND and
MACAIRE remain in front C., watching them go._)

BERTRAND. Sold again, captain?

MACAIRE. Ay, they will have it.

BERTRAND. It? What?

MACAIRE. The worst, Bertrand. What is man?--a beast of prey. An hour
ago, and I'd have taken a crust and gone in peace. But no: they would
trick and juggle, curse them: they would wriggle and cheat! Well, I
accept the challenge: war to the knife.

BERTRAND. Murder?

MACAIRE. What is murder? A legal term for a man dying. Call it Fate, and
that's philosophy; call me Providence, and you talk religion. Die? Why,
that is what man is made for; we are full of mortal parts; we are all as
good as dead already, we hang so close upon the brink: touch a button,
and the strongest falls in dissolution. Now, see how easy: I take
you----(_grappling him_).

BERTRAND. Macaire--O no!

MACAIRE. Fool! Would I harm a fly, when I had nothing to gain? As the
butcher with the sheep, I kill to live; and where is the difference
between man and mutton? pride and a tailor's bill. Murder? I know who
made that name--a man crouching from the knife! Selfishness made it--the
aggregated egotism called society; but I meet that with a selfishness as
great. Has he money? Have I none--great powers, none? Well, then, I
fatten and manure my life with his.

BERTRAND. You frighten me. Who is it?

MACAIRE. Mark well. (_The MARQUIS opens the door of Number Thirteen, and
the rest, clustering round, bid him good-night. As they begin