CHARLES. Gentlemen, I am unconscious of the smallest natural inclination for either. MARQUIS. Another thought: what was his mother’s name? MACAIRE. What was the name of his mother by you? MARQUIS. Sir, you are silenced. MACAIRE. Silenced by honour. I had rather lose my boy than compromise his sainted mother. MARQUIS. A thought: twins might explain it: had you not two foundlings? DUMONT. Nay, sir, one only; and judging by the miseries of this evening, I should say, thank God! MACAIRE. My friends, leave me alone with the Marquis. It is only a father that can understand a father’s heart. Bertrand, follow the members of my family. (_They troop out_, _L. U. E. and R. U. E._, _the fiddlers playing_. _Air_: ‘_O dear_, _what can the matter be_?’) SCENE IV MACAIRE, MARQUIS MARQUIS. Well, sir? MACAIRE. My lord, I feel for you. (_Business_. _They sit_, _R._) MARQUIS. And now, sir? MACAIRE. The bond that joins us is remarkable and touching. MARQUIS. Well, sir? MACAIRE (_touching him on the breast_). You have there thirty thousand francs. MARQUIS. Well, sir? MACAIRE. I was but thinking of the inequalities of life, my lord: that I who, for all you know, may be the father of your son, should have nothing; and that you who, for all I know, may be the father of mine, should be literally bulging with bank notes. . . . Where do you keep them at night? MARQUIS. Under my pillow. I think it rather ingenious. MACAIRE. Admirably so! I applaud the device. MARQUIS. Well, sir? MACAIRE. Do you snuff, my lord? MARQUIS. No, sir, I do not. MACAIRE. My lord, I am a poor man. MARQUIS. Well, sir? and what of that? MACAIRE. The affections, my lord, are priceless. Money will not buy them; or, at least, it takes a great deal. MARQUIS. Sir, your sentiments do you honour. MACAIRE. My lord, you are rich. MARQUIS. Well, sir? MACAIRE. Now follow me, I beseech you. Here am I, my lord; and there, if I may so express myself, are you. Each has the father’s heart, and there we are equal; each claims yon interesting lad, and there again we are on a par. But, my lord—and here we come to the inequality, and what I consider the unfairness of the thing—you have thirty thousand francs, and I, my lord, have not a rap. You mark me? not a rap, my lord! My lord, put yourself in my position: consider what must be my feelings, my desires; and—hey? MARQUIS. I fail to grasp . . . MACAIRE (_with irritation_). My dear man, there is the door of the house; here am I; there (_touching_, MARQUIS _on the breast_) are thirty thousand francs. Well, now? MARQUIS. I give you my word of honour, sir, I gather nothing; my mind is quite unused to such prolonged exertion. If the boy be yours, he is not mine; if he be mine, he is not yours; and if he is neither of ours, or both of ours . . . in short, my mind . . . MACAIRE. My lord, will you lay those thirty thousand francs upon the table?