GIRARD. Yes, it's all in the interests of the masters. It's against solidarity. THERESE. Will you allow me to express my astonishment that you should make conditions with us when you wish to take something from us? CHARPIN. We're ony tellin' you our terms for sharing the work with you. THERESE. I quite understand; but we have no desire to share it with you. We mean to keep it. And I'm greatly surprised to hear you suggest that we should all work together. CONSTANCE. Indeed we won't. DESCHAUME. Why not, Mademoiselle? When we worked together-- CONSTANCE [_interrupting_] When we worked with you before, you played all sorts of dirty tricks on us to make us leave. DESCHAUME. What tricks? Did you hear anything about that, Charpin? CHARPIN. I dunnow what she's talkin' about. D'you Vincent? VINCENT. Look here, I only want to get to an understandin'. CONSTANCE. You never stopped sayin' beastly things. DESCHAUME AND CHARPIN [_protesting together_] Oh! O-ho! DESCHAUME. Well, if we can't have a bit of chippin' in a friendly way like! BERTHE. Beastly things like that ain't jokes. I didn't know where to look meself; and I've sat for a sculptor, so I ain't too particular. CHARPIN. He! He! I thought she was talkin' about that old joke of the rats. _The men laugh together._ THERESE. Yes, you're laughing about it still! About shutting up live rats in our desks before we came to work. GIRARD. He! He! We didn't mean any harm. THERESE. You didn't mean any harm! The little apprentice was ill for a week, and Madame Dumont had a bad fall. You thought of dozens of things of that kind, like the typists who mixed up all the letters on the women's desks. When we went away to get our lunch, you came and spoilt our work and made the women lose a great part of their day's pay or work hours of overtime. We don't want any more of that. You agreed we should have a separate workshop. We'll keep it. GIRARD. If Monsieur Feliat sticks to you, we'll have to come out on strike. THERESE. We don't want Monsieur Feliat to get into trouble because of us. GIRARD. Well, what are you going to do about it? THERESE. We'll take your places. CHARPIN [_bringing his fist down with a bang upon the table_] Well, I'm damned! DESCHAUME [_threateningly_] If you do, we'll have to put you through it! CONSTANCE. We'll do it! GIRARD [_to Therese_] D'you understand now, Mademoiselle, why we socialists don't want women in the factory or in the workshop? The woman's the devil because of the low salary she has to take. She's a victim, and she likes to be a victim, and so she's the best card the employer has to play against a strike. The women are too weak, and if I might say so, too slavish-- DESCHAUME. Yes, that's the word, mate, slavish.