THE FATHER. I won't contradict you; but excuse me, the actors aren't the characters. They want to be, they pretend to be, don't they? Now if these gentlemen here are fortunate enough to have us alive before them.... THE MANAGER. Oh this is grand! You want to come before the public yourselves then? THE FATHER. As we are.... THE MANAGER. I can assure you it would be a magnificent spectacle! LEADING MAN. What's the use of us here anyway then? THE MANAGER. You're not going to pretend that you can act? It makes me laugh! (_The actors laugh_). There, you see, they are laughing at the notion. But, by the way, I must cast the parts. That won't be difficult. They cast themselves. (_To the Second Lady Lead_): You play the Mother. (_To the Father_): We must find her a name. THE FATHER. Amalia, sir. THE MANAGER. But that is the real name of your wife. We don't want to call her by her real name. THE FATHER. Why ever not, if it is her name? Still, perhaps, if that lady must.... (_makes a slight motion of the hand to indicate the Second Lady Lead_). I see this woman here (_means the Mother_) as Amalia. But do as you like (_gets more and more confused_). I don't know what to say to you. Already, I begin to hear my own words ring false, as if they had another sound.... THE MANAGER. Don't you worry about it. It'll be our job to find the right tones. And as for her name, if you want her Amalia, Amalia it shall be; and if you don't like it, we'll find another! For the moment though, we'll call the characters in this way: (_to Juvenile Lead_) You are the Son; (_to the Leading Lady_) You naturally are the Step-Daughter. THE STEP-DAUGHTER (_excitedly_). What? what? I, that woman there? (_Bursts out laughing_). THE MANAGER (_angry_). What is there to laugh at? LEADING LADY (_indignant_). Nobody has ever dared to laugh at me. I insist on being treated with respect; otherwise I go away. THE STEP-DAUGHTER. No, no, excuse me ... I am not laughing at you.... THE MANAGER (_to Step-Daughter_). You ought to feel honoured to be played by.... LEADING LADY (_at once, contemptuously_). "That woman there".... THE STEP-DAUGHTER. But I wasn't speaking of you, you know. I was speaking of myself--whom I can't see at all in you! That is all. I don't know ... but ... you ... aren't in the least like me.... THE FATHER. True. Here's the point. Look here, sir, our temperaments, our souls.... THE MANAGER. Temperament, soul, be hanged! Do you suppose the spirit of the piece is in you? Nothing of the kind! THE FATHER. What, haven't we our own temperaments, our own souls?