SERVANT. (_Announcing_) Monsieur le vicomte de Gaiac! Monsieur des Millets! (_Enter_ DE GAIAC _and_ DES MILLETS.) DUCHESS. Well—I—look at your poet! There he is! SEVERAL VOICES. The poet!—The young poet!—Where?—Where is he? GAIAC. Will you ever forgive me, Countess? I was kept at the office. (_Aside_) I was writing up your _soirée_!—Monsieur des Millets, my friend the tragic poet, whose talent you will soon have an opportunity of appreciating. DES MILLETS. (_Bowing_) Madame la comtesse! DUCHESS. (_To_ ROGER) So that is the young poet! He’s an odd one! MME. ARRIÉGO. (_Aside to the other ladies_) How awful! BARONESS. He’s gray! MME. DE SAINT-RÉAULT. Bald! MME. DE LOUDAN. He has no talent: he’s much too ugly, my dear! MME. DE CÉRAN. We are very happy, Monsieur, my guests and I, to be favored with your presence! MME. DE LOUDAN. (_Approaching him_) A virgin triumph, Monsieur! How grateful we are! DES MILLETS. (_Confused_) Ah, Madame! MME. DE CÉRAN. And it is really your first work, Monsieur? DES MILLETS. Oh, but I have written several poems! GAIAC. Crowned by the Academy, Madame la comtesse. JEANNE. (_To_ PAUL, _admiringly_) Crowned! PAUL. (_To_ JEANNE) _Mediocritas!_ MME. DE CÉRAN. And this is your first attempt in the realm of the drama? Ah, well, maturity of years guarantees maturity of talent! DES MILLETS. Alas, Madame la comtesse, the play was written fifteen years ago! LADIES. Fifteen years!—Is it possible?! Really? GAIAC. Ah, Des Millets has faith in his work! We must encourage those who have faith, should we not, ladies? MME. DE LOUDAN. Of course! We must encourage the tragic form, must we not, General? Tragedy—— GENERAL. (_Interrupting himself in his conversation with_ VIROT) Eh? Oh, yes, tragedy! _Horace!_ _Cinna!_ Of course, we must! Tragedy is necessary for the masses—(_To_ DES MILLETS) May we have the title? DES. MILLETS. _Philippe-Auguste!_ GENERAL. Fine subject! Good military subject!—In verse, isn’t it? DES MILLETS. Oh, General! A tragedy——! GENERAL. A good many acts, I suppose? DES MILLETS. Five. GENERAL. Ha! Ha! Good! Good! JEANNE. (_Aside to_ PAUL) Five acts! How lovely! We’ll have plenty of time——! PAUL. Sh-h! MME. DE LOUDAN. The road to Parnassus is long! MME. DE SAINT-RÉAULT. What a mighty effort! MME. ARRIÉGO. It must be encouraged! (SUZANNE’S _laugh is heard above the murmur of the conversation_.) MME. DE CÉRAN. Suzanne! DUCHESS. (_To_ MADAME DE CÉRAN) Lead out young Euripides and his press agent! Get rid of the lot of them! MME. DE CÉRAN. Now ladies, shall we go into the large drawing-room and hear the reading? (_To_ DES MILLETS) Are you ready, Monsieur? DES MILLETS. As you please, Madame la comtesse. PAUL. (_Aside to_ JEANNE) Age before beauty! MME. DE CÉRAN. Come, ladies!