A COMEDY BY GEORGE ANCEY Translated from the French by Barrett H. Clark. [_A stylish drawing-room. There are doors at the back, and on each side. Down-stage to the right is a window; near it, but protected by a screen, is a large arm-chair near a sewing-table. Down-stage opposite is a fire-place, on each side of which, facing it, are a sofa and another large arm-chair; next the sofa is a small table, and next to it, in turn, a stool and two chairs. This part of the stage should be so arranged as to make a little cozy-corner. The set is completed by various and sundry lamps, vases with flowers, and the like._ _As the curtain rises, the servant enters to Lamblin, Marthe and Madame Bail, bringing coffee and cigarettes, which he lays on the small table._] LAMBLIN [_settling comfortably into his chair_]. Ah, how comfortable it is! Mm--! [_To Marthe._] Serve us our coffee, my child, serve us our coffee. MARTHE [_sadly_]. Yes, yes. LAMBLIN [_aside_]. Always something going round and round in that little head of hers! Needn't worry about it--nothing serious.--Well, Mother-in-law, what do you say to the laces, eh? MADAME BAIL. Delicious! It must have cost a small fortune! You have twenty yards there! LAMBLIN. Five thousand francs! Five thousand francs! [_To Marthe._] Yes, madame, your husband was particularly generous. He insists upon making his wife the most beautiful of women and giving her everything her heart desires. Has he succeeded? MARTHE. Thank you. I've really never seen such lovely malines. Madame Pertuis ordered some lately and they're not nearly so beautiful as these. LAMBLIN. I'm glad to hear it. Well, aren't you going to kiss your husband--for his trouble? [_She kisses him._] Good! There, now. MADAME BAIL [_to Lamblin_]. You spoil her! LAMBLIN [_to Marthe_]. Do I spoil you? MARTHE. Yes, yes, of course. LAMBLIN. That's right. Everybody happy? That's all we can ask, isn't that so, Mamma Bail? Take care, I warn you! If you continue to look at me that way I'm likely to become dangerous! MADAME BAIL. Silly man. LAMBLIN. Ha! MADAME BAIL [_to Marthe_]. Laugh, why don't you? MARTHE. I do. LAMBLIN [_bringing his wife to him and putting her upon his knee_]. No, no, but you don't laugh enough, little one. Now, to punish you, I'm going to give you another kiss. [_He kisses her._] MARTHE. Oh! Your beard pricks so! Now, take your coffee, or it'll get cold, and then you'll scold Julie again. [_A pause._] LAMBLIN. It looks like pleasant weather to-morrow! MADAME BAIL. What made you think of that? LAMBLIN. The particles of sugar have all collected at the bottom of my cup. [_He drinks his coffee._] MADAME BAIL. As a matter of fact, I hope the weather will be nice. LAMBLIN. Do you have to go out? MADAME BAIL. I must go to Argentuil. LAMBLIN. Now, my dear mother-in-law, what are you going to do at Argentuil? I have an idea that there must be some old general there--?