ANTONIN. On the contrary. My wife only likes reading about serious subjects. Why the other day I found her reading—who was it? that English writer: what was his name, dearest? JULIE. Never mind. ANTONIN [_going over to Julie, summing up her points_] She’s a wonderful little woman, my wife. Aren’t you, dearest? You aren’t cold, are you? I am always telling you you don’t wrap up enough. [_To Pouchelet_] She is charming, isn’t she? And the most devoted wife! [_To Julie_] Aren’t you a devoted wife, dear? MME. MAIRAUT. Antonin, aren’t you going to offer M. and Madame Pouchelet a little refreshment? ANTONIN. Of course. [_To his wife_] Will you ring? _Julie rings the bell. The maid comes in almost at once with bottles of beer on a tray, and glasses._ JULIE [_to the maid_] Put it there. ANTONIN [_to Madame Pouchelet_] My wife is a wonderful manager. We are really hardly settled in here. Yet everything is always ready directly one wants it. May I give you a glass of beer? _The glasses which Julie has poured out are handed round. Caroline comes in._ DUPONT. M. Pouchelet, allow me to present to you my second daughter, Caroline. POUCHELET [_bows_] Madame. ANTONIN [_correcting him_] Mademoiselle. Mlle. Caroline has always refused to marry. She prefers to devote her life to her art. MME. POUCHELET. You are an artist, mademoiselle? How delightful. I adore artists. CAROLINE. I only paint a little on china. ANTONIN. And she does it most beautifully. POUCHELET. You must send something to our local exhibition. ANTONIN. Excellent! M. Pouchelet is right. Why have you never sent anything? CAROLINE. I only paint china plates, knick-knacks and so on. ANTONIN. Just for your own amusement. [_To Pouchelet_] My sister-in-law just does it to amuse herself. But I am sure if she took the trouble— CAROLINE. But I don’t do it to amuse myself. MME. MAIRAUT. Oh, yes, you do. ANTONIN. Merely to amuse yourself. DUPONT. Just for your own amusement. ANTONIN. And the artist can put just as much of his art into small subjects. Look at Meissonier. MME. POUCHELET. Of course. They give just as great scope for the imagination. CAROLINE. But I only copy what the people at the shop send me. MME. MAIRAUT. Another glass of beer, Madame Pouchelet? It is French beer and can’t— MME. POUCHELET. Not just now, thank you. [_To Caroline_] The shop people, mademoiselle? CAROLINE. Yes, madame, the people who keep the shop I work for. They pay me quite good wages for what I do. MME. POUCHELET. I see. [_A silence_]. ANTONIN [_sotto voce, taking Caroline a glass of beer_] Be silent, can’t you? CAROLINE [_to him, puzzled_] What is it? ANTONIN [_to Madame Pouchelet, leading her up to a picture_] Madame Pouchelet, you understand pictures, I know. What do you think of this? I paid a long price for it. [_They go on talking_]. CAROLINE [_to Madame Mairaut, in a low voice_] Have I done anything I shouldn’t?