THE FATHER. Yes, that is the word! (_To Manager all at once_): In the sense, that is, that the author who created us alive no longer wished, or was no longer able, materially to put us into a work of art. And this was a real crime, sir; because he who has had the luck to be born a character can laugh even at death. He cannot die. The man, the writer, the instrument of the creation will die, but his creation does not die. And to live for ever, it does not need to have extraordinary gifts or to be able to work wonders. Who was Sancho Panza? Who was Don Abbondio? Yet they live eternally because--live germs as they were--they had the fortune to find a fecundating matrix, a fantasy which could raise and nourish them: make them live for ever! THE MANAGER. That is quite all right. But what do you want here, all of you? THE FATHER. We want to live. THE MANAGER (_ironically_). For Eternity? THE FATHER. No, sir, only for a moment ... in you. AN ACTOR. Just listen to him! LEADING LADY. They want to live, in us...! JUVENILE LEAD (_pointing to the Step-Daughter_). I've no objection, as far as that one is concerned! THE FATHER. Look here! look here! The comedy has to be made. (_To the Manager_): But if you and your actors are willing, we can soon concert it among ourselves. THE MANAGER (_annoyed_). But what do you want to concert? We don't go in for concerts here. Here we play dramas and comedies! THE FATHER. Exactly! That is just why we have come to you. THE MANAGER. And where is the "book"? THE FATHER. It is in us! (_The actors laugh_). The drama is in us, and we are the drama. We are impatient to play it. Our inner passion drives us on to this. THE STEP-DAUGHTER (_disdainful, alluring, treacherous, full of impudence_). My passion, sir! Ah, if you only knew! My passion for him! (_Points to the Father and makes a pretence of embracing him. Then she breaks out into a loud laugh_). THE FATHER (_angrily_). Behave yourself! And please don't laugh in that fashion. THE STEP-DAUGHTER. With your permission, gentlemen, I, who am a two months' orphan, will show you how I can dance and sing. (_Sings and then dances_). Prenez garde a Tchou-Thin-Tchou. Les chinois sont un peuple malin, De Shangaî à Pekin, Ils ont mis des écriteux partout: Prenez garde à Tchou-Thin-Tchou. ACTORS and ACTRESSES. Bravo! Well done! Tip-top! THE MANAGER. Silence! This isn't a café concert, you know! (_Turning to the Father in consternation_): Is she mad? THE FATHER. Mad? No, she's worse than mad.