LUCIE. What a piece of luck! If he could only cure my poor babies! MADELEINE. They say he works wonders. And where is our little Annette? LUCIE. Annette is with the Bernins. Tuesday is her day for going there. MADELEINE. And your husband? LUCIE. My husband? Why, he’s at his meeting, of course. MADELEINE. What, is it this afternoon? LUCIE. You naughty woman! Not even to know the date of your brother in-law’s meeting! MADELEINE [_making a face_] No. To me, you know, all these questions—birth-rate, repopulation—ugh! LUCIE. France has need of it. MADELEINE. I suppose so. [_A pause_] How is it you’re not at the meeting? LUCIE. It’s only for working-men. MADELEINE. M. de Forgeau’s constituents? LUCIE. Yes, but some day they may be Julien’s constituents. MADELEINE. How do you mean? LUCIE. Listen. It’s a secret, but I can’t help telling you. M. de Forgeau has promised Julien to get him adopted by his committee at the election to the Chamber two months from now. MADELEINE. Do you find the idea of being wife of a deputy fascinating? LUCIE [_laughing_] He didn’t ask my opinion. [_Seriously_] It seems that if he were in the Chamber, Julien might look forward to going very far. MADELEINE. It was he who said that? LUCIE. He, and M. de Forgeau. You know we’re not rich. My husband’s professional income would hardly be enough to secure the future of our two little girls, even if one were not, alas, an invalid. MADELEINE. Aren’t you afraid that Julien may be once again letting his imagination run away with him? LUCIE [_melancholy_] What would be the good of my trying to dissuade him? I must make myself try to share his illusions—for instance, in the success of his meeting this afternoon. MADELEINE. But what can he find to say to working-men about all that? That they ought to have large families? LUCIE. That’s it. MADELEINE. Of course, I know nothing about it, but I should think the best way to encourage them was not to let the children they have already perish of want. LUCIE. Just what I tell Julien. It’s the rich who ought to have children. MADELEINE. So I think. LUCIE. You’re rich—why have you only got one, then? MADELEINE. That’s another question. Don’t let’s talk about that. Talk of something cheery. JOSEPHINE [_entering_] If you please, ma’am, Catherine is here. LUCIE. Ask her to come in. [_To Madeleine_] It’s ever so long since I’ve seen nursie. _Josephine shews in Catherine, a working-woman of forty, dressed simply and very neatly in a black cloak and bonnet._ CATHERINE [_to Lucie and Madeleine_] Good-day, ma’am. Good-day. LUCIE and MADELEINE [_shaking hands_] How do you do, Catherine? CATHERINE. And your sister, ma’am, how’s she? LUCIE. Annette? Your darling’s very well. CATHERINE. That’s good to hear. I thought I’d just look in to say good-day. LUCIE. I’m glad you came. CATHERINE. And to ask if you haven’t any errands for me in Paris.