LAUR [_getting excited_] Oh, yes! Making the poor do everything! Go and talk to the middle classes, who’ve money enough to rear children by the dozen, and who’ve fewer than the workmen. Here’s M. Chevillot: he has twenty thousand francs a year, I have two thousand. When he has ten children, then I’ll have one. That’ll be fair and square, won’t it now? CHEV. These personalities— LAUR. Is it true that you’ve only one son? CHEV. It’s true. But if I had several my works would have to be sold at my death, and— LAUR. There we are. These gentlemen are too precious careful about the fortunes they leave their own children; but when it’s a question of the workmen’s children, they think it don’t matter if there ain’t enough victuals to go round. CHEV. It is to the interest of the workmen that my works should be prosperous. LAUR. But you only take unmarried men. CHEV. I beg your pardon—I— LAUR. Is it true? CHEV. It’s because of the Employers’ Liability Bill. Let me explain—[_Laurent turns his back on him. He addresses himself to Brignac_] Allow me to—[_Brignac does not listen. To the sous-intendant_] If I was allowed to explain you would understand. I’m perfectly consistent. LAUR. Are we to do as you say, or are we to do as you do? If you believed what you say you’d act accordingly. CHEV. But— BRIGNAC. We shouldn’t indulge in these personalities. We must look higher. Lift up your hearts. Sursum corda. You have just heard, gentlemen, that commerce and the army protest against the decline of the population. And I, the representative of the Government of this country, tell you, in concert with commerce and the army, that there must be more births. LAUR. And what’s the Government doing? BRIGNAC. What is it doing!—well—and this circular? SOUS-IN. We must be just. Besides this circular, the Government has appointed a Commission to enquire into the matter. BRIGNAC. Various measures are being brought up. LAUR. When they’re passed—we’ll see. BRIGNAC. Those who have a large family will be exempted from taxation. LAUR. From what taxes? BRIGNAC. What taxes! The taxes you pay to the collector, of course. LAUR. Listen, M. le sous-préfet. The poor pay next to nothing of those taxes. They pay the _real_ taxes: the taxes upon bread, wine, salt, tobacco: and they’ll go on paying them. The more children you have, the more money the State takes from you. SOUS-IN. Pray do not forget that the State proposes to confer a decoration upon every mother of seven children. PIERRE [_to Laurent_] There you are! JACQUES. M. le sous-préfet, we must be off. We’ve a long way to go. BRIGNAC [_to Jacques_] Good night, M. le maire. PIERRE [_tipsy_] I’m all right here. Why go ’way? LAUR. I’m a fool, M. Brignac. I’m afraid I’ve been setting you against me. I’ll start an association—trust me. Good night. Good night, madame. JACQUES. Good night, madame. LUCIE. Good night, good night. PIERRE. Good night, ladies, gents, and—hic—the company.