I was so discouraged. [He inhales and puffs a long luxurious whif of
smoke. Very bitterly.] Life! [He disperses the puff of smoke with
his finger, and stares before him.] And to think that in a few
minutes HE will be born! Monsieur! [He gazes intently at WELLWYN.]
The world would reproach you for your goodness to me.

WELLWYN. [Looking uneasily at the door into the house.] You think
so? Ah!

FERRAND. Monsieur, if HE himself were on earth now, there would be a
little heap of gentlemen writing to the journals every day to call
Him sloppee sentimentalist! And what is veree funny, these gentlemen
they would all be most strong Christians. [He regards WELLWYN
deeply.] But that will not trouble you, Monsieur; I saw well from
the first that you are no Christian. You have so kind a face.

WELLWYN. Oh! Indeed!

FERRAND. You have not enough the Pharisee in your character. You do
not judge, and you are judged.

[He stretches his limbs as if in pain.]

WELLWYN. Are you in pain?

FERRAND. I 'ave a little the rheumatism.

WELLWYN. Wet through, of course! [Glancing towards the house.] Wait
a bit! I wonder if you'd like these trousers; they've--er--they're
not quite----