FRANÇOISE [_a small, frail woman, with a melancholy look, at times rather mocking. As the curtain rises she is alone. She raises and lowers the window-blind from time to time_]. A little more! There! Oh, the sunlight! How blinding! [_Glancing at the studio with satisfaction._] How neat everything is! [_In attempting to take something from the table, she knocks some papers to the floor._] Well! [_Seeing a letter, among the papers she is picking up._] A letter! From Monsieur Guérin--[_Reading._] "My dear friend, why do you persist in keeping silence? You say very little of the imprudent woman who has dared to become the companion of the handsome Marcel! Do you recompense her for her confidence in you, for her courage? You are not at all like other men: your frivolity, if you will permit the term, your--" [_Interrupting herself._] He writes the word! [_Continuing._] "Your cynicism makes me tremble for you. Absent for a year! How much friendship gone to waste! Why were we thrust apart the moment you were married? Why did my wife's health make sunlight an absolute necessity for her? We are now leaving Rome; in a month I'll drop in on you at Auteuil--" [_Interrupting herself again._] Very soon! [_Marcel appears at the back._] "I am very impatient to see you, and Very anxious to see Madame Desroches. I wonder whether she will take to me? I hope she will. Take care, you villain, I shall cross-question her carefully, and if I find the slightest shadow upon her happiness, her friend-to-be will be an angry man." [_She stops reading and says to herself, sadly._] A friend--I should like that! MARCEL [_carelessly dressed. He is of the type that appeals to women_]. Ah, inquisitive, you read my letters? FRANÇOISE. Oh, it's an old one-- MARCEL [_chaffing her_]. From Guérin? FRANÇOISE. I found it there, when I was putting the studio in order. MARCEL [_tenderly_]. The little romantic child is looking for a friend? FRANÇOISE. I have so much to tell, so much about my recent happiness! MARCEL. Am I not that friend? FRANÇOISE. You are the man I love. Should I consult with you, where your happiness is concerned? MARCEL. Too deep for me! [_Yawning._] Oh, I'm tired! FRANÇOISE. Did you come in late last night? MARCEL. Three o'clock. FRANÇOISE. You were very quiet, you naughty man! MARCEL. Were you jealous? FRANÇOISE. The idea! I am morally certain that you love no one except your wife. MARCEL [_sadly_]. It's true, I love no one except my wife. FRANÇOISE [_chaffing him in turn_]. Poor Marcel! MARCEL. I was bored to death at that supper; I can't imagine why.--They all tell me I'm getting stout. FRANÇOISE. That's no reason why you shouldn't please. MARCEL. God is very unjust. FRANÇOISE. So they say! MARCEL [_stretching out on a sofa_]. Excuse my appearance, won't you, Françoise? [_Making himself comfortable._] I can't keep my eyes open any longer nowadays. The days of my youth--Why, I was--[_He stops._]