_Sir GEORGES_. True. I was forgetting. Well, when you have been with
us a little longer, you will know that this is my face when I adore
anyone very much, but, owing to an unfortunate episode in my past
life, am forced to hide my love.

_Renée (alarmed_). Your past _wife_ isn't alive somewhere?

_Mérital_. Oh no, not that sort of thing at all. (_Embracing her
carefully_.) I will marry you, Renée, but run along now because my
friend Frépeau is coming, and he probably wants to talk business.
[_Exit_ Renée.

_Enter_ Frépeau.

_Frépeau (excitedly_). Mérital, you are in danger. A scandalous libel
is being circulated about you.

_Mérital (calmly_). Pooh! Faugh!

_Frépeau_. It is said that thirty years ago (Alexandre's _nose
twitches_), when you were in a solicitor's office (Alexandre's _jaw
drops_), you stole ninepence from the stamp drawer (Alexandre's
_eyeballs roll_). Of course it is a lie?

_Mérital (with a great effort obtaining command of his features
again_). Of course.

CURTAIN.