MACAIRE. A pound in his pocket? \ | BERTRAND. Keep for nothing? | > _Aside._ MACAIRE. Bitten! | | BERTRAND. Sold again! / DUMONT. I will send you what we have: poor fare, perhaps, for gentlemen like you. SCENE V _MACAIRE, BERTRAND; afterwards CHARLES, who appears on the gallery and comes down_ BERTRAND. I told you so. Why will you fly so high? MACAIRE. Bertrand, don't crush me. A pound: a fortune! With a pound to start upon--two pounds, for I'd have borrowed yours--three months from now I might have been driving in my barouche, with you behind it, Bertrand, in a tasteful livery. BERTRAND (_seeing CHARLES_). Lord, a policeman! MACAIRE. Steady! What is a policeman? Justice's blind eye. (_To CHARLES._) I think, sir, you are in the force? CHARLES. I am, sir, and it was in that character---- MACAIRE. Ah, sir, a fine service! CHARLES. It is, sir, and if your papers---- MACAIRE. You become your uniform. Have you a mother? Ah, well, well! CHARLES. My duty, sir---- MACAIRE. They tell me one Macaire--is not that his name, Bertrand?--has broken gaol at Lyons? CHARLES. He has, sir, and it is precisely for that reason-- MACAIRE. Well, good-bye. (_Shaking CHARLES by the hand and leading him towards the door, L.U.E._) Sweet spot, sweet spot. The scenery is.... (_kisses his finger-tips. Exit CHARLES._) And now, what is a policeman? BERTRAND. A bobby. SCENE VI _MACAIRE, BERTRAND; to whom, ALINE with tray; and afterwards MAIDS_ ALINE (_entering with tray and proceeding to lay table, L._). My men, you are in better luck than usual. It isn't every day you go shares in a wedding feast. MACAIRE. A wedding? Ah, and you're the bride. ALINE. What makes you fancy that? MACAIRE. Heavens, am I blind? ALINE. Well, then, I wish I was. MACAIRE. I take you at the word: have me. ALINE. You will never be hanged for modesty. MACAIRE. Modesty is for the poor: when one is rich and nobly born, 'tis but a clog. I love you. What is your name? ALINE. Guess again, and you'll guess wrong. (_Enter the other servants with wine baskets._) Here, set the wine down. No, that is the old Burgundy for the wedding party. These gentlemen must put up with a different bin. (_Setting wine before MACAIRE and BERTRAND, who are at table, L._) MACAIRE (_drinking_). Vinegar, by the supreme Jove! BERTRAND. Sold again! MACAIRE. Now, Bertrand, mark me. (_Before the servants he exchanges the bottle for the one in front of DUMONT'S place at the head of the other table._) Was it well done? BERTRAND. Immense. MACAIRE (_emptying his glass into BERTRAND'S_). There, Bertrand, you may finish that. Ha! music? SCENE VII