_Luc._ A present! what could it be? _Cha._ “_A very handsome dressing-case_” (_a waltz is heard playing outside_), with my name engraved upon it, and below my name the following compliment: “Too lazy to do any thing.” I was furious, but I wanted a dressing-case: so, as I wanted a dressing-case, I kept it. I’ll trouble you for another cup of tea, at least if you don’t find me too lazy for that? [_Handing cup._ _Luc._ With pleasure. [_Hands cup._ _Cha._ Thanks; don’t let’s talk of my unfortunate self any more; a little more sugar, please. _Luc._ This country band really plays that waltz charmingly. _Cha._ (_listening and pondering_). Yes, oh, yes; how often have I heard that air, and how happy have I been! _Luc._ That waltz? _Cha._ My mother used to play it to me when _I was a little child_! _Luc._ Have you any control over yourself? _Cha._ Most certainly, a good deal even; ask me to prove it. _Luc._ You would not grant what I ask. _Cha._ I wouldn’t. Ah, madam! you want to send me away. _Luc._ Not at all: only I wished to explain to you, that, never having worn a thick veil in a room, I’m simply stifling. _Cha._ I can quite believe you. Nothing, nothing is so dangerous as a thick veil: you must take it off at once,—you must. _Luc._ If you can sufficiently control yourself to sit in a chair here without turning your head, I will sit behind you, and we can finish our conversation without my being stifled. _Cha._ (_reproachfully_). What, madam! _Luc._ Well, you must choose; for, as I don’t want to die of suffocation, I shall be forced to give you your _congé_. _Cha._ (_taking chair down front of scene, and sitting_). Madam, this is the second time it is my good fortune to save your life to-night, in return for which— _Luc._ (_advancing with a cup of tea in one hand, whilst with the other she keeps him down in the chair_). Then, sir, I am to understand that, notwithstanding all the misfortunes connected with your nickname, you have still hope. _Cha._ Yes,—hope, that poor little creature that nothing can kill. _Luc._ It is, then, this hope that takes you to Baden? _Cha._ Baden is, as far as I’m concerned at this moment, my last hope in this world; then, if my luck is once more against me, if fortune fails to help me, if that poor little creature, hope, succumbs to bad luck, why, then— _Luc._ You’ll go and join your mother. _Cha._ Yes, madam, I shall go. [_Endeavoring to turn round._ _Luc._ If you do that, I shall have to tie you with my handkerchief. Don’t you think now, joking apart, that it would be wiser, without tempting fortune at Baden, to go to your “mother at once”? (_Waltz music again._) She’d play to you again. (_Listening._) Come, do you hear that waltz? and when you hear it once more by her side,—that dear mother,—you’ll be happy, and—