PAUL. Girl of eighteen, a tom-boy, chatter-box, free with her tongue and her manners—with a life-history that reads like a novel. JEANNE. Umm! Lovely, let’s hear it! PAUL. She’s the daughter of a certain widow— JEANNE. Yes? PAUL. Well? Daughter of a widow—and that ass Georges de Villiers, another nephew of the Duchess; she adored him. A natural child. JEANNE. Natural? How lovely! PAUL. The mother and father are dead. The child was left an orphan at the age of twelve with a princely heritage and an education to match. Georges taught her Javanese. The Duchess, who adores her, brought her into the home of Madame de Céran, who detests her, and gave her Roger for a tutor. They tried their best to keep her in a convent, but she ran away twice; they sent her back a third time and—here she is again! Imagine that state of affairs! And that’s the end of the story—good, isn’t it? JEANNE. So good that you needn’t pay me the two kisses you owe me. PAUL. (_Disappointed_) Ohh! JEANNE. But I’ll pay you! (_She kisses him_) PAUL. Silly! (_The door at the back opens_) Oh! Saint-Réault and Madame de Céran! No, she didn’t see us. Now—ahem—ready! (_Enter_ MME. DE CÉRAN _and_ SAINT-RÉAULT. _They pause in the doorway, not seeing_ PAUL _and_ JEANNE.) MME. DE CÉRAN. No, no, no, my friend, not the first poll! Listen to me, 15-8-15 the first poll—— There was a secret ballot on that one and therefore on the second: it’s very simple! SAINT-RÉAULT. Simple? Simple? Now the second poll, since I have only four votes on the second poll, with our nine votes on the first poll—that leaves us only thirteen on the second! MME. DE CÉRAN. And our seven on the first—that makes twenty on the second! Don’t you see? SAINT-RÉAULT. (_Enlightened_) Ahhh! PAUL. (_To_ JEANNE) Very simple! MME. DE CÉRAN. I repeat, beware of Dalibert and his Liberals. At present the Academy is Liberal—at present—at present! (_They come down-stage, talking_) SAINT-RÉAULT. Isn’t Revel also the leader of the New School? MME. DE CÉRAN. (_Looking at him_) Ohh! Revel isn’t dead yet, is he? SAINT-RÉAULT. Oh, no! MME. DE CÉRAN. He isn’t ill? SAINT-RÉAULT. (_Slightly embarrassed_) Oh, he’s always in poor health. MME. DE CÉRAN. Well, then? SAINT-RÉAULT. We must always be prepared, mustn’t we?—I’ll keep my eyes open. MME. DE CÉRAN. (_Aside_) There’s something at the bottom of all this! (_Seeing_ RAYMOND, _and going toward him_) Ah, my dear Monsieur Raymond, I was forgetting all about you; pardon me! PAUL. My dear Countess! (_Presenting_ JEANNE) Madame Paul Raymond! MME. DE CÉRAN. You are most welcome here, Madame! Consider yourself in the home of a friend. (_Presenting them to_ SAINT-RÉAULT) Monsieur Paul Raymond, Sub-prefect of Agenis, Madame Paul Raymond, Monsieur le baron Eriel de Saint-Réault. PAUL. I am especially happy to make your acquaintance since, as a young man, it was my privilege to know your illustrious father. (_Aside_) He stuck me on my final examinations!