FRANcOISE. Good!

GUeRIN [_ironically_]. It's so long since I've seen Marcel.

FRANcOISE. Three years.

GUeRIN. So many things have happened since!

FRANcOISE. You find him a married man, for one thing--

GUeRIN. Happily married!

FRANcOISE. Yes, happily!

GUeRIN. Dear old Marcel! I'll be so glad to see him!

FRANcOISE. I see you haven't forgotten my husband, Monsieur. Thank you!

GUeRIN. How can I help admiring so stout and loyal a heart as his!

FRANcOISE. You'll have to like me, too!

GUeRIN. I already do.

FRANcOISE. Really? Then you believe everything you write?

GUeRIN. Yes, Madame.

FRANcOISE. Take care! This morning I was re-reading one of your letters, in which you promised me your heartiest support. [_Offering him her hand._] Then we're friends, are we not?

GUeRIN [_after hesitating, takes her hand_]. Good friends, Madame!

FRANcOISE. Word of honor?

GUeRIN. Word of honor!

FRANcOISE [_sitting_]. Then I'll stay. Sit down, and let's talk.

[_Guerin is uncertain._] We have so much to say to each other! Let's talk about you first.

GUeRIN [_forced to sit down_]. About me? But I--

FRANcOISE. Yes, about you.

GUeRIN [_quickly_]. No, about _your_ happiness, your welfare.

FRANcOISE. About my great happiness!

GUeRIN [_ironically_]. Let us speak about your--existence--with which you are so content. I must know all the happiness of this house!

FRANcOISE. Happy people never have anything to say.

GUeRIN. You never have troubles, I presume?

FRANcOISE. None, so far.

GUeRIN. But what might happen? To-day you are living peacefully with Marcel, a man whose marriage was, it seems, strongly opposed. Life owes you no more than it has already given you.

FRANcOISE. My happiness is complete. I had never imagined that a man's goodness could make a woman so happy!

GUeRIN. Goodness?

FRANcOISE. Of course!

GUeRIN. Love, you mean Madame!

FRANcOISE. Oh, Marcel's love for me--!

GUeRIN. Something lacking?

FRANcOISE. No!

GUeRIN [_interested_]. Tell me. Am I not your friend?

FRANcOISE. Seriously, Monsieur, you know him very well: how could he be in love with me? Is it even possible? He allows one to love him, and I ask nothing more.

GUeRIN. Nothing?

FRANcOISE. Only to be allowed to continue. [_Gesture from Guerin._] I am not like other women. I don't ask for rights; but I do demand tenderness, and consideration. He is free, I am not--I'll admit that.

But I don't mind, I only hope that we may continue as we are!

GUeRIN. Have you some presentiment, Madame?

FRANcOISE. I am afraid, Monsieur. My happiness is not of the proud, demonstrative variety, it is a kind of happiness that is continually trembling for its safety. If I told you--

GUeRIN. Do tell me!

FRANcOISE. Later! How I pity any one who loves and has to suffer for it!

GUeRIN [_surprised_]. You--!

FRANcOISE. I am not on the side of the jealous, of the betrayed--

GUeRIN [_aside, sympathetically_]. Poor little woman! [_With great sincerity._] Then you are not sure of him?

FRANcOISE [_more and more excited_]. He is Marcel! Admit for a moment that he loves me to-day--I want so to believe it! To-morrow will he love me? Does he himself know whether he will love me then? Isn't he at the mercy of a whim, a pa.s.sing fancy--of the weather, or the appearance of the first woman he happens to meet? I am only twenty, and I am not always as careful as I might be. Happiness is so difficult!

GUeRIN. Yes, it is. [_To himself._] It is! [_To Francoise._] Perhaps you are conscientious, too sincere?

FRANcOISE. I feel that; yes, I think I am, but every time I try to hide my affection from him, he becomes indifferent, almost mean--as if he were glad to be relieved of a duty--of being good!