FRANÇOISE. You were just the right age for marriage. MARCEL [_as if to banish the idea_]. Oh! [_A pause._] I'm sure you will get along well with Guérin. Yours are kindred spirits--you're alike--not in looks, however. FRANÇOISE. Morally, you mean? MARCEL. Yes, The comparison flatters him. FRANÇOISE. He's like this, then; sentimental, a good friend, and a man of honor. Yes, I think I shall get along nicely with him. MARCEL. What a sympathetic nature you have! You've never seen him, and you know him already. FRANÇOISE. How long has he been married? MARCEL. He was born married! FRANÇOISE. Tell me. MARCEL. Ten years, I think. FRANÇOISE. He's happy. MARCEL. Very. FRANÇOISE. What sort of woman is she? MARCEL. Lively. FRANÇOISE. Though virtuous? MARCEL. So they say. FRANÇOISE. Then Madame Guérin and the handsome Martel--eh? MARCEL. A friend's wife? FRANÇOISE. It's very tempting--[_Marcel seems to take this with ill-humor; he is about to put on his hat._] Are you going out? MARCEL. I lunch at the club. FRANÇOISE. Very well. MARCEL. I'm--a little nervous; I need a breath of air. FRANÇOISE. Paris air! MARCEL. Precisely. FRANÇOISE. And your work? MARCEL. I'm not in the mood. FRANÇOISE. It's only ten days before the Salon: you'll never be ready. MARCEL. What chance have I, with my talent? FRANÇOISE. You have a great deal of talent--it's recognized everywhere. MARCEL. I did have. [_A pause._] FRANÇOISE. Will you be home for dinner? MARCEL [_tenderly_]. Of course! And don't allow any black suspicion to get the better of you: I'm not lunching with anybody! FRANÇOISE. I suspect you! MARCEL [_gratefully_]. 'Til later, then! [_A pause. Frankly._] Of course, I don't always go where I tell you I'm going. Why should I worry you? But if you think I--do what I ought not to do, you are mistaken. I'm no longer a bachelor, you know. FRANÇOISE. Just a trifle, aren't you? MARCEL. No jealousy, dear! The day of adventures is dead and buried. Thirty-five mortal years, a scarcity of hair, a noticeable rotundity--and married! Opportunities are fewer now! FRANÇOISE [_playfully_]. Don't lose courage, your luck may return. A minute would suffice. MARCEL [_mournfully_]. I don't dare hope. FRANÇOISE. Married! It was never your destiny to be a proprietor, you are doomed to be a tenant. MARCEL [_as he is about to leave, sees a letter on the table_]. Oh, a letter, and you said nothing to me about it! FRANÇOISE. I didn't see it. Jean must have brought it while you were asleep. MARCEL. From Passy! I know that hand! [_Aside, with surprise._] Madame Guérin--Madeleine! Well! [_Reading._] "My dear friend I lunch to-day with my aunt Madame de Monglat, at La Muette--as I used to. Come and see me before noon, I have serious things to discuss with you." [_He stops reading; aside, much pleased._] A rendezvous! And after three years! Poor Guérin! No! It wouldn't be decent now! No! FRANÇOISE [_aside_]. He seems to be waking up!