Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays. Various
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Madame Bail. Marthe, that's not at all nice of you!
Lamblin [to Madame Bail]. Ah, you're the only one who understands me, Mother! Now, little one, you're going to give me a cigar, one of those on the table.
Marthe [giving him a cigar]. Lazy! He can't even stretch his arm out!
Lamblin. You see, I prefer to have my little wife serve me and be nice to me.
Madame Bail [looking at them both]. Shall I go?
Lamblin. Why should you?
Madame Bail. Well—because—
Lamblin [understanding]. Oh! No, no, stay with us and tell us stories. The little one is moody and severe, I don't dare risk putting my arm around her. Her religion forbids her—expanding!
Madame Bail. Then you don't think I'll be in the way?
Lamblin. You, Mother! I tell you, the day I took it into my head to bring you here to live with us, I was an extremely clever man. It's most convenient to have you here. Men of business like me haven't the time to spend all their leisure moments with their wives. Very often, after a day's work at the office, I'm not at liberty to spend the evening at home: I must return to the office, you know.
Marthe. As you did yesterday!
Lamblin. As I did yesterday. And when I take it into my head to stroll along the boulevard—
Madame Bail. Or elsewhere!
Lamblin. You insist on your little joke, Mother. If, I say, I take it into my head to go out, there's the little one all alone. You came here to live with us, and now my conscious is easy: I leave my little wife in good hands. I need not worry. There were a thousand liberties I never indulged in before you came. Now I take them without the slightest scruple.
Madame Bail. How kind of you!
Lamblin. Don't you think so, little one?
Marthe. I believe that Mamma did exactly the right thing.
Lamblin. You see, I want people to be happy. It is not enough that I should be: every one must be who is about me. I can't abide selfish people.
Madame Bail. You're right!
Lamblin. And it's so easy not to be! [A pause.] There is only one thing worrying me now: I brought a whole package of papers with me from the office, which I must sign.
Marthe. How is business now?
Lamblin. Not very good.
Marthe. Did M. Pacot reimburse you?
Madame Bail. Yes, did he?
Lamblin. It's been pretty hard these past three days, but I am reimbursed, and that's all I ask. Now I'm going to sign my papers. It won't take me more than a quarter of an hour. I'll find you here when I come back, shan't I? [To Marthe.] And the little one will leave me my cognac, eh? See you soon.
Madame Bail. Yes, see you soon.
Lamblin [to Marthe]. You'll let me have my cognac?
Marthe. No! It's ridiculous! It'll make you ill. [Lamblin goes out.]
Madame Bail. There's a good boy!
Marthe. You always stand up for him. The world is full of "good boys" of his sort. "Good boys"! They're all selfish!
Madame Bail. Don't get so excited!
Marthe. I'm not in the least excited. I'm as calm now as I was excited a year ago when I learned of Alfred's affair.
Madame Bail. I understand.
Marthe. No, you don't understand.
Madame Bail. You didn't behave at all reasonably, as you ought to have done long since. You still have absurd romantic ideas. You're not at all reasonable.
Marthe [very much put out]. Well, if I still have those absurd ideas, if I rebel at times, if, as you say, I'm unreasonable, whom does it harm but me alone? What do you expect? The bare idea of sharing him is repulsive to me. Think of it a moment—how perfectly abominable it all is! Why, we are practically accomplices! I thought we were going to discuss it with him just now! It will happen, I know!
Madame Bail. What do you intend to do about it? You keep on saying the same thing. I'm an experienced woman. Why don't you take my word, and be a philosopher, the way all women are, the way I've had to be more than once? If you think for one moment that your own father—! Well, we won't say anything about him.
Marthe. Philosopher, philosopher! A nice way to put it! In what way is that Mathilde Cogé, who is his mistress, better than I? I'd like to know that!
Madame Bail. In any event, he might have done much worse. She is a widow, a woman of the world, and she isn't ruining him. I know her slightly; I've seen her at Madame Parent's. She just seems a little mad, and not in the least spiteful!
Marthe [raging]. Ah!
Madame Bail. But what are you going to do about it?
Marthe. It would be best to separate.
Madame Bail. Why didn't you think of that sooner? You know very well you'd be sorry the moment you'd done it.
Marthe. Don't you think that would be best for us all? What am I doing here? What hopes have I for the future? Merely to complete the happiness of Monsieur, who deigns to see in me an agreeable nurse, who occasionally likes to rest by my side after his escapades elsewhere! Thank you so much! I might just as well go!
Madame Bail. That would be madness. You wouldn't be so foolish as to do it.
Marthe. Yes—I know—society would blame me!
Madame Bail. That's the first point. We should submit to everything rather than do as some others do and fly in the face of convention. We belong to society.
Marthe. In that case I should at least have peace.
Madame Bail. Peace! Nothing of the sort, my dear. You know very well, you would have regrets.
Marthe [ironically]. What regrets?
Madame Bail. God knows! Perhaps, though you don't know it, you still love him, in some hidden corner of your heart. You may pity him. You can go a long way with that feeling. Perhaps you have same vague hope—[Marthe is about to speak.] Well, we won't say any more about that. And then you are religious, you have a big forgiving soul. Aren't these sufficient reasons for waiting? You may regret it. Believe me, my dear child. [Marthe stands silent, and Madame Bail changes her attitude and tone of voice.] Now, you must admit, you haven't so much to complain of. Your husband is far from the worst; indeed, he's one of the best. What would you do if you were in Madame Ponceau's position? Her husband spends all their money and stays away for two and three months at a time. He goes away, is not seen anywhere, and when he returns, he has the most terrible scenes with poor Marie, and even beats her! Now, Alfred is very good to you, pays you all sorts of attentions, he comes home three evenings a week, gives you all sorts of presents. And these laces! He never bothers you or abuses you. See how nice he was just a few minutes ago, simple and natural! He was lovely, and said the pleasantest imaginable things.
Marthe [bitterly]. He flattered you!
Madame Bail. That isn't the reason!
Marthe. That you say nice things about him? Nonsense! He pleases and amuses you. You don't want me to apply for a separation because you want him near you, and because you are afraid of what people will say. Be frank and admit it.
Madame Bail. Marthe, that's not at all nice of you.
Marthe. It's the truth.
Madame Bail. No, no, nothing of the sort.
Marthe. Another thing that grates on me in this life we are leading is to see the way my mother takes her son-in-law's part