MADAME NeRISSE [_at the door on the right, to Mademoiselle Gregoire_]

You first. [_They go out_]

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_smiling_] I think our new friend was a bit amused. She's pretty.

THeReSE. Yes, and she looks capable.

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Let's get to work.

_She sits down, at a desk. Therese sits near her at the end of the same desk. During all that follows Therese opens envelopes with a letter opener and pa.s.ses them to Mademoiselle de Meuriot, who takes the letters out, glances at them, and makes three or four little piles of them._

THeReSE. Here! [_Holding out the first letter_]

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_as she works_] And you? How are you this morning? [_Looking closely at her and shaking a finger_] You're tired, little girl. You sat up working last night.

THeReSE. I wanted to finish copying out my ma.n.u.script. It took me ages, because I wanted to make it as clear as print.

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_gravely_] You know you mustn't be ill, Therese.

THeReSE. How good you are, Mademoiselle, and how lucky I am to have you for a friend. What should I do without you?

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. How about your G.o.dmother?

THeReSE. I didn't get on with her. She never could hide her dislike for me, and it burst out in the end. When she saw that in spite of everything she could say I was going to leave her, she let herself go and made a dreadful scene. And, what was worse, my good, kind G.o.dfather joined in! It seemed as if they thought my wanting to be independent was a direct insult to them. What a lot of letters there are to-day.

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. It's the renewal of the subscriptions.

THeReSE. Oh, is that it? So you see we parted, not exactly enemies--but, well--on our dignity. We write little letters to one another now, half cold and half affectionate. I tell you, without you I should be quite alone.

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Not more alone than I am.

THeReSE. I have someone to talk to now and tell my little worries to.

It's not that, even. One always finds people ready to listen to you and pity you, but what one doesn't find is people one can tell one's most impossible dreams to and feel sure one won't be laughed at. That's real friendship. [_She stops working as she continues_] To dare to think out loud before another person and let her see the G.o.ds of one's secret idolatry, and to be sure one's not exposing one's precious things to blasphemy. How I love you for being like you are and for caring for me a little. [_She resumes her work_]

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. I don't care for you a little, Therese! I care for you very much indeed. I like you because you're brave and hurl yourself against obstacles like a little battering ram, and because you're straight and honest and one can depend on you.

THeReSE [_who can't get open the letter she holds_] Please pa.s.s me the scissors. Thanks. [_She cuts open the envelope_] I might have been all those things, and it would have been no good at all, if you hadn't been able to see them.

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Remember that in being friends with you I get as much as I give. My people were very religious and very proud of their t.i.tle. I made up my mind to leave home, but since then I've been quite alone--alone for thirty years. I'm selfish in my love for you now. I've had so little of that sort of happiness.

THeReSE. You've done so much for women. You've helped so many.

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_touching her piles of letters_] Here's another who won't renew.

THeReSE. What will Madame Nerisse say? [_Continuing_] You know, Mademoiselle, it's not only success that I want. I have a great ambition. I should like to think that because I've lived there might be a little less suffering in the world. That's the sort of thing that I can say to n.o.body but you.

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_tenderly_] Therese has an ardent soul.

THeReSE. Yes, Therese has an ardent soul. It was you who said that about me first, and I think I deserve it. [_Changing her tone_] Here's the subscriber's book. [_She hands the book and continues in her former voice_] Like Guyan, I have more tears than I need to spend on my own sufferings, so I can give the spare ones to other people. And not only tears, but courage and consolation that I have no opportunity of using up myself. Do you understand what I mean?

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Yes, I understand, my dear. I see my own youth over again. [_Sadly_] Oh, I hope that you--but I don't want to rouse up those old ghosts; I should only distress you. Perhaps lives like mine are necessary, if it's only to throw into relief lives that are more beautiful than mine. Keep your lovely dreams. [_A silence_] When I think that instead of being an old maid I might have been the mother of a girl like you!

THeReSE [_leaning towards her and kissing her hair_] Don't cry.

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_tears in her eyes and a smile upon her lips_]

No, no, I won't; and when I think that somewhere or other there's a man you love!

THeReSE [_smiling_] Some day or other I must tell you a whole lot of things about Rene.

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Have you seen him again?

THeReSE. Yes.

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. But you were supposed not to meet any more.

THeReSE [_with a mutinous little smile_] Yes, we were supposed not to meet any more. One says those things and then one meets all the same. If Rene had gone on being the feeble and lamentable young man that I parted from the _Barberine_ evening, I should perhaps have never seen him again. You don't know what my Rene has done, do you now?

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. No.

THeReSE. I've been looking forward so to telling you. [_Eagerly_] Well, he's quite changed. He's become a different man. Oh, he's not a marvel of energy even yet, but he's not the helpless youth who was still feeding out of his father's hands at twenty-five.

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. And how has this great improvement come about?

THeReSE [_looking at her knowingly_] You'll make me blush.

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Was it for love of you?

THeReSE. I think it _was_ for love of me. Let me tell you. He wanted to see me again, and he waited at the door when I was coming out from my work, just as if I was a little milliner's a.s.sistant. And then he came back another evening, and then another. While we were walking from here to my place we chattered, and chattered, and chattered. We had more to say to each other than we'd ever had before, and I began to realize that his want of will and energy was more the result of always hanging on to his people than anything else. Then there came a crash. [_She laughs_] A most fortunate crash. His father formally ordered him not to see me again; threatened, if he did, to stop his allowance. What do you think my Rene did? He sent back the cheque his people had just given him with quite a nice, civil, respectful letter. Then he left his office and got a place in a business house at an absurdly small salary, and he's been working there ever since. [_Laughing_] He shocked all the other young men in the office by the way he stuck to it. He got gradually interested in what he had to do. He read it all up; the heads of the firm noticed him and were civil to him, and now they've sent him on important business to Tunis. And that's what he's done all for love of me! Now, don't you think I ought to care for him a little? Don't you?

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Yes, my dear. But then if he's in Tunis?

THeReSE. Oh, he'll come back.

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. And when will the wedding be?

THeReSE. He's sure his people will give in in the end if he can make some money. We shall wait.

_The page boy comes in with seven or eight round parcels in his arms._

BOY. Here are this morning's ma.n.u.scripts.

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Put them with the others.

BOY. There was one lady was quite determined to see you herself. She said her article was most particular. It's among that lot.

MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Very well.

BOY. Mademoiselle Caroline Legrand is coming.