Woman on Her Own, False Gods and The Red Robe: Three Plays By BrieuxBrieux, Eugène
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Woman on Her Own, False Gods and The Red Robe: Three Plays By Brieux
Brieux, Eugène
French drama
MADAME NERISSE [_gayly_] I must give it up, then, as I'm free only on
Wednesdays.
MONSIEUR MAFFLU. I should like her to see for herself how nice you are.
Her friends have been talking to her. They thought that you--well--they
say feminist women are like the women were in the time of the Commune.
They said perhaps you'd even go on a deputation!
MADAME NERISSE. You wouldn't approve of that?
MONSIEUR MAFFLU. Oh, talkin' of that, one of my friends has an argument
nobody can answer. "Let these women," he says, "let 'em do their
military service."
MADAME NERISSE. Well, you tell him that if men make wars, women make
soldiers; and get killed at that work too, sometimes.
MONSIEUR MAFFLU [_after reflecting for some moments_] I'll tell him, but
he won't understand.
MADAME NERISSE. Well, no matter. I won't detain you any longer, Monsieur
Mafflu.
MONSIEUR MAFFLU. Oh! Madame. I should like to stay and talk to you for
hours.
MADAME NERISSE [_laughing_] You're too kind.
MONSIEUR MAFFLU. Then you forgive me?
MADAME NERISSE [_going to the door with him_] What would one not forgive
you?
MONSIEUR MAFFLU [_turning back_] I say--
MADAME NERISSE. No, no. Good-bye, Monsieur.
MONSIEUR MAFFLU. Good-bye, Madame.
_He goes out._
MADAME NERISSE [_to herself_] One really couldn't be angry!
_Therese comes in with a little moleskin bag on her arm. She
is in a light dress, is very gay, and looks younger._
THERESE. Good-morning, Madame. I'm so sorry to be late. I met Monsieur
Feliat, my godmother's brother.
MADAME NERISSE. How is Madame Gueret?
THERESE. Very well, he says.
MADAME NERISSE. And does Monsieur Gueret like his new home?
THERESE. Yes, very much.
MADAME NERISSE. And Madame Gueret?
THERESE. She seems to be quite happy.
MADAME NERISSE. What a good thing. Here's the letter Monsieur Nerisse
has written for you to that editor. [_She hands her an unsealed letter_]
THERESE. Oh, thank you!
MADAME NERISSE. Did you find out when he could see you?
THERESE. To-morrow at Two O'clock. Can you spare me then?
MADAME NERISSE. Yes, certainly.
THERESE. Thank you.
MADAME NERISSE. Why don't you read your letter? You see it's open.
THERESE. I'll shut it up.
MADAME NERISSE. Read it.
THERESE. Shall I?
MADAME NERISSE. Yes, do.
THERESE [_reading_] Oh, it's too much. This is too kind. With a letter
like this my article is certain to be read. Monsieur Nerisse _is_ kind!
Will you tell him how very grateful I am?
MADAME NERISSE [_coldly_] Yes. [_She makes an effort to be kind_] I'll
tell him, of course. But I dictated the letter myself. Monsieur Nerisse
only signed it. [_She rings_]
THERESE. Then I have one more kindness to thank you for.
MADAME NERISSE [_to the page boy_] I expect Monsieur Cazares.
BOY. Monsieur--?
MADAME NERISSE. Our old editor--Monsieur Cazares. You know him very
well.
BOY. Oh, yes, Madame, yes!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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