Scene: _Morning room in a handsome flat--a showily furnished room--rather ostentatious and loud in its decoration and appointments. Large table in bay window r.upper corner. Fire-place r.Doors at back l.c. and two in l. wing. Small tables r.and L.. Easy chairs l. and R._ _Breakfast is laid on large table--it is a gorgeously laid meal--silver and plate in profusion, and a great number of dishes--tea urn and coffee urn--a boiling kettle--flowers and ferns in vases and stands. One, a large wavy one, is at left edge of table close to Allen. The table in short is crowded and showy to the last degree. A magnificent footman in gorgeous livery is standing behind; and Mr. Piffin in solemn black waits close to Allen’s chair, a dish in his hand. Allen is discovered sitting l. of table, and eating his breakfast in a most melancholy fashion. He looks intensely miserable and awed. The terrible solemnity of the whole affair has depressed his spirits to their lowest ebb. He glances nervously now and then as the meal proceeds, from the footman to the valet, and vice versa, as they silently and with much ceremony walk about and wait on him. The fern by his side keeps getting in his way, tickling and irritating him, but he dare not move it. He eats in silence, and when he does speak, does so in a humble, deprecating, nervous manner. He is dressed in a loose morning costume. Music to open Act._ Piff. (_Standing by Allen’s l. elbow c. Peters r. of table R._) May I get you a little pâté de foie gras, sir? Allen. (_Looking round, and speaking in a hushed voice._) I beg pardon? Piff. A little pâté de foie gras, sir. Allen. Patty who? Piff. Goose’s liver, sir. I think you will like it. Allen. No, thanks; I never eats liver. It don’t agree with me. I will have a bit o’ the bacon though. Piff. No, sir; it is not dressed that way, sir. I would get used to it if I were you, sir. You will so often come across it. Peters, just pass your master the pâté de foie gras. (_Peters goes to do so. Allen who has turned again towards his breakfast is about to take up some gravy from his plate with his knife_). Piff. (_Checks him._) I wouldn’t lap up the gravy with my knife, sir. I don’t think. It’s never done now in good society, sir. Allen. It--it’s the best part of it, you know, I alius thinks--the gravy Piff. Yes, it’s very tasty, sir. It’s unfortunate it’s so sloppy; and you see, sir, eating it in that way does not show off the figure to advantage. Peters, remove your master’s plate. (_Peters does so, placing it a few feet beyond Allen’s left hand. Allen watches it with jealous eyes. Peters then holds the pâté de foie gras to Allen. He slowly runs his eye up Peters with awe, and then looks at the pâté de foie gras, then using one hand attempts to take it. Peters, not moving a muscle, holds it tight. Allen seems surprised, and partly rising, attempts to take it with both hands._)