_He goes out._

MADAME NeRISSE. I've hardly ever been at such a successful party. I wanted to congratulate dear Therese, but she's gone to change her dress.

MADAME GUeRET [_absently_] So glad. Were you speaking of having a notice of it in your paper?

MADAME NeRISSE. Of your play! If I was going to notice it! I should think so! The photographs we had taken at the dress rehearsal are being developed. We shall have a wonderful description.

MADAME GUeRET [_imploring_] Could it be stopped?

MADAME NeRISSE. It's not possible! Just think how amazed the subscribers to _Feminine Art_ would be if they found nothing in their paper about your lovely performance of _Barberine_, even if the editress of the paper hadn't taken a part in the play. If it only depended on me, perhaps I could find some way out--explain it in some way, just to please you. But then there's your charming Therese--one of our contributors. I can't tell you what a wonderful success she's had with her two stories, ill.u.s.trated by herself. People adore her.

MADAME GUeRET. n.o.body would know anything about it--

MADAME NeRISSE. n.o.body know! There are at least ten people among your guests who will send descriptions of this party to the biggest morning papers, simply for the sake of getting their own names into print. If _Feminine Art_ had nothing about it, it would be thought extremely odd, I a.s.sure you. [_She turns to Feliat_] Wouldn't it, Monsieur?

FeLIAT. Pardon me, Madame, I know nothing about these things.

MADAME GUeRET. Well, we'll say no more about it.

MADAME NeRISSE. But what's the matter? You must have some very good reason for not wanting me to put in anything about your delightful party.

MADAME GUeRET. No----only----[_Hesitating_] Some of our family are country people, you know. It would take me too long to explain it all to you. It doesn't matter. [_With a change of tone_] Then honestly you think Therese has some little talent?

MADAME NeRISSE. Little talent! No, but very great talent. Haven't you read her two articles?

MADAME GUeRET. Oh, I? I belong to another century. In my days it would have been considered a very curious thing if a young girl wrote novels.

My brother feels this too. By the way, I have not introduced my brother to you. Monsieur Feliat, of Evreux--Madame Nerisse, editress of _Feminine Art_. Madame Nerisse has been kind enough to help us with our little party. [_To Madame Nerisse_] Yes--you were speaking about--what was it--this story that Therese has written. No doubt your readers were indulgent to the work of a little amateur.

MADAME NeRISSE. I wish I could find professionals who'd do half as well.

I'm perfectly certain the number her photograph is going to be in will have a good sale.

FeLIAT. You'll publish her photograph?

MADAME NeRISSE. In her dress as Kalekairi.

MADAME GUeRET. In her dress as Kalekairi!

MADAME NeRISSE. On the front page. They tell me it's a first-rate likeness. I'll bring you one of them before long, and your country relations will be delighted. If you'll excuse me, I'll hurry away and change my dress.

MADAME GUeRET. Oh, please excuse me for keeping you.

MADAME NeRISSE. Good-bye for the present. [_She goes to the door_] I was looking for Maud and Nadia to take them away with me. I see them over there having a little flirtation. [_She looks through the door and speaks pleasantly to Maud and Nadia, who are just outside_] All right, all right; I won't interrupt. [_To Madame Gueret_] They'd much rather come home alone. Good-bye. [_She bows to Feliat_] Good-bye, Monsieur.

[_Turning again to Madame Gueret_] Don't look so upset because you have a G.o.ddaughter who can be a great writer or a great painter if she chooses; just as she would have been a great actress if she had taken a fancy for that. Good-bye again and many congratulations.

_She goes out._

MADAME GUeRET. Well! Anyway, she's not _my_ daughter! I must go and say good-bye to everybody. When I've got rid of them, I'll come back and see Therese. Will you wait for me? You'll find some papers on that little table. Oh, goodness, what times we live in!

_Madame Gueret goes out. Feliat, left alone, strolls to the door and looks in the direction in which Madame Nerisse had seen Maud and Nadia. After a moment he shows signs of indignation._

FeLIAT [_shocked_] Oh, I say, this is really--I must cough or something, and let them know I'm here. [_He coughs_] They've seen me. They're waving their hands--and--they 're going on just the same!

_Lucienne and Therese in ordinary dress come in and notice what Feliat is doing._

THeReSE [_to Lucienne_] What is he doing?

LUCIENNE. What's the matter?

_They advance to see what has caused his perturbation. He hears them and turns._

FeLIAT. It is incredible!

THeReSE. You seem rather upset. What's the matter?

FeLIAT. What's the matter? Those girls are behaving in such a scandalous way with those young men.

LUCIENNE. Let's see.

FeLIAT. Oh, don't look! [_Suddenly stopping, half to himself_] Though I must say--

THeReSE [_laughing_] What must you say?

FeLIAT. Nothing.

LUCIENNE. I know. You mean that we're just as bad.

FeLIAT. No, no, not as bad.

LUCIENNE. Yes, yes; well--almost. [_Feliat makes a sign of protest_] I saw you watching us yesterday after the rehearsal! You saw I was flirting, and I know you imagined all sorts of horrid things. Our little flirtations are not what you think. When we flirt we play at love-making with our best boys, just as once upon a time we played at mothering with our dolls.

FeLIAT. But that doesn't justify--

THeReSE. You don't understand. People spoil us while we're children, and then look after us so tremendously carefully when we grow up that we guess there must be delightful and dangerous possibilities about us.

Flirting is our way of feeling for these possibilities.

LUCIENNE. We're sharpening our weapons.

THeReSE. But the foils have b.u.t.tons on them, and the pistols are only loaded with powder.

LUCIENNE. And it's extremely amusing and does no harm to anybody.

THeReSE. Monsieur Feliat, you've read bad books. Nowadays girls like us are neither bread-and-b.u.t.ter misses nor demi-vierges. We're perfectly respectable young people. Quite capable and self-possessed and, at the same time, quite straight and very happy.

FeLIAT. I'm perfectly sure of it, my dear young ladies. But you know I've had a great deal of experience.

THeReSE. Oh, _experience_! Well, you know--

LUCIENNE. Oh, _experience_!