THE STEP-DAUGHTER. It's true. I too have sought to tempt him, many, many times, when he has been sitting at his writing table, feeling a bit melancholy, at the twilight hour. He would sit in his armchair too lazy to switch on the light, and all the shadows that crept into his room were full of our presence coming to tempt him. (_As if she saw herself still there by the writing table, and was annoyed by the presence of the actors_): Oh, if you would only go away, go away and leave us alone--mother here with that son of hers--I with that Child--that Boy there always alone--and then I with him (_just hints at the Father_)--and then I alone, alone ... in those shadows! (_Makes a sudden movement as if in the vision she has of herself illuminating those shadows she wanted to seize hold of herself_). Ah! my life! my life! Oh, what scenes we proposed to him--and I tempted him more than any of the others! THE FATHER. Maybe. But perhaps it was your fault that he refused to give us life: because you were too insistent, too troublesome. THE STEP-DAUGHTER. Nonsense! Didn't he make me so himself? (_Goes close to the Manager to tell him as if in confidence_). In my opinion he abandoned us in a fit of depression, of disgust for the ordinary theatre as the public knows it and likes it. THE SON. Exactly what it was, sir; exactly that! THE FATHER. Not at all! Don't believe it for a minute. Listen to me! You'll be doing quite right to modify, as you suggest, the excesses both of this girl here, who wants to do too much, and of this young man, who won't do anything at all. THE SON. No, nothing! THE MANAGER. You too get over the mark occasionally, my dear sir, if I may say so. THE FATHER. I? When? Where? THE MANAGER. Always! Continuously! Then there's this insistence of yours in trying to make us believe you are a character. And then too, you must really argue and philosophize less, you know, much less. THE FATHER. Well, if you want to take away from me the possibility of representing the torment of my spirit which never gives me peace, you will be suppressing me: that's all. Every true man, sir, who is a little above the level of the beasts and plants does not live for the sake of living, without knowing how to live; but he lives so as to give a meaning and a value of his own to life. For me this is _everything_. I cannot give up this, just to represent a mere fact as she (_indicating the Step-Daughter_) wants. It's all very well for her, since her "vendetta" lies in the "fact." I'm not going to do it. It destroys my _raison d'être_. THE MANAGER. Your _raison d'être!_ Oh, we're going ahead fine! First she starts off, and then you jump in. At this rate, we'll never finish.