MME. DE CÉRAN. It’s useless for you to wait, my dear, we are here. You have your _Tumuli_, run along! (_She urges him to the door_) ROGER. Please, mother! It’s a matter that—— MME. DE CÉRAN. It concerns your position. Go now, run away! ROGER. (_Resisting_.) I should be very sorry to disobey you, but—— MME. DE CÉRAN. Now, Roger! ROGER. Please, mother!—I couldn’t write a line this evening, I am too—I don’t know what—I am very disturbed. My conscience tells me that I have not acted toward that young girl as I ought. I’m very—Think of it, Mother—Suzanne!—It would be awful—! I am in a fearful position. DUCHESS. Surely you exaggerate! ROGER. (_Flaring up_) Really! MME. DE CÉRAN. Roger! Roger! What do you mean! ROGER. I am her tutor; it is my duty to look after her moral welfare!—Think of my responsibility; that child’s honor is in my hands! It is a sacred charge placed in my keeping; if I violate my trust I should be worse than a criminal. And then you talk to me about _Tumuli! Tumuli! Tumuli!_ The devil take the _Tumuli_! MME. DE CÉRAN. (_Terrified_) Oh! DUCHESS. Well, well! ROGER. And I say, if this is true, if that cad has dared take advantage of our hospitality and her innocence, I’m going straight to him and demand a public apology, do you hear? MME. DE CÉRAN. My son! ROGER. Before everyone! MME. DE CÉRAN. This is madness!—Duchess, forgive him, he’s—— DUCHESS. Oho! I like to see him like that, you know! MME. DE CÉRAN. Roger! ROGER. No, mother, this is my affair. I’ll wait here. (_He sits down_) MME. DE CÉRAN. Very well, then, I’ll wait, too. ROGER. You? MME. DE CÉRAN. Yes, and I’ll talk to him. DUCHESS. But be careful! MME. DE CÉRAN. Oh, I’ll be careful enough; but if she persists, I shall give her my opinion on the subject! I’ll wait. (_She sits down_) DUCHESS. Not long! Five minutes to ten! If she is going to have her headache, it is due about now. (_The door at the back swings open slowly_) Shhh—— ROGER. There she is! (_As the door opens, the voice of the poet is heard declaiming._) POET. (_Outside_) “Then let me cleanse the earth of this vile brood! Death’s portal shall not check my vengeance, nor Shall I retreat before the yawning grave——” (JEANNE _appears; closes the door_.) DUCHESS. The Sub-prefect’s wife! JEANNE. (_Astonished at seeing them_) Oh! DUCHESS. Come in, don’t be afraid. It would seem that you have had enough? JEANNE. Oh, no, Duchess, but you see, I—— DUCHESS. You don’t care for tragedy? JEANNE. Oh, yes, I do! DUCHESS. Oh, you needn’t say so to be polite; there are seventeen others who feel as you do! (_Aside_) What can she be up to?—It wasn’t interesting, was it? JEANNE. Quite the contrary! DUCHESS. “Quite the contrary,” as you say to the person who asks you whether it hurt when he stepped on your foot? JEANNE. Oh, not at all! There were some very interesting things—there was one beautiful line. DUCHESS. A whole line?