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I DINE WITH MY MOTHER 
 

 I DINE WITH MY 
 MOTHER 
 
 From the French of 
 
 PIERRE-HENRI-ADRIEN DECOURCELLE 
 
 •.J:'-: 
 
 By 
 
 EVELYN CLARK MORGAN 
 
 New York and Washington 
 
 The Neale Publishing Company 
 
 1904 
 

 Copyri£to. S9<?4" I- ', » 
 By EVELYN CLARK MO'RCiAN 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONAE 
 
 SOPHIE ARNOULD, of the Paris Opera 
 
 COUNT d'HENNIN, her lover 
 
 BARON d'ORNAY, one of her admirers 
 
 PIERRE DIDIER, an artist 
 
 MARION, Sophie's maid 
 
 Chef, Coachman, Lackeys. 
 
 M1.6576G 
 
LOCALE. 
 Time — January j, 1765. 
 
 Boudoir in the house of Sophie Amould, rue 
 Richelieu, Paris. 
 
 Windows on either side. Door at the right. 
 Fire-place and mantel at the back. 
 
 Appointments luxurious. Walls covered with 
 gilt and white hoiserie. 
 
 Garland of Cupids encircles the arched ceiling 
 on which is painted the fable of Psyche. 
 
 Gilt consoles in floral design serve for base of 
 mirrors that fill the space between the windows. 
 
 Satin curtains bordered with roses hang at the 
 windows and door. 
 
 On chairs, sofa, piano, inlaid tables and cabi- 
 nets are seen a profusion of bouquets. Jewel cases 
 and objects d'art are scattered here and there 
 among the Dresden figures and Sevres vases that 
 ornament the room. 
 
SCENE I. 
 
 Marion {alone, arranging various gifts). 
 How many flowers and gifts. One mes- 
 senger scarcely leaves the door before 
 another appears. A rain-shower of dia- 
 monds, a cloud-burst of bonbons, a del- 
 uge of flowers, and still it rains. 
 
 First Footman {entering zvith bouquet). 
 Commander Choisy's greeting to 
 Mademoiselle Sophie Arnould. 
 
 Marion. Good! {Footman retires. She 
 lays it zvith the others.) More flowers ! 
 
 Second Footman {carrying small box). 
 From Baron d'Ornay. 
 
 Marion. Thanks. {Footman disap- 
 pears. She opens the box.) Oh! how 
 they shine! What beautiful gems! I 
 wish some one would pelt me with 
 stones like these. 
 
 Third Footman {enters, places box on 
 
10 I DINE WITH MY MOTHER 
 
 table). From Viscount St. Croix. (Re- 
 tires.) 
 
 Marion. From the Viscount! I 
 thought he was ruined. (Opens the box; 
 makes a grimace.) Now, I know he is. 
 Ah! that lucky Mademoiselle. 
 
SCENE II. 
 
 Marion; Sophie; Baron, 
 
 Sophie (advancing from left, followed 
 by Baron). Baron, you are very, very 
 generous; these bracelets are superb. 
 
 Baron. Oh, not at all; their worth 
 lies in their uniqueness. I helped the 
 jeweler design them, and then destroy- 
 ed the pattern. 
 
 Sophie. Indeed! How the count- 
 esses and baronesses will envy me, and 
 how chagrined they will be. They be- 
 siege my tailor whenever they see a 
 new costume on me. 
 
 Baron. Then the tailor must be in a 
 continual state of siege, but I honor the 
 taste of the ladies. 
 
 Sophie. If only they followed my 
 brilliant ideas, but they follow all blind- 
 ly. Once I had a chocolate-colored 
 
12 I DINE WITH MY MOTHER 
 
 outre gown that my maid would have 
 scorned. Just for a freak I wore this 
 odd thing; and, my dear Baron, at the 
 next horse-show I saw at least one hun- 
 dred chocolate-colored costumes. I 
 laugh whenever I think of all those 
 chocolate-colored gowns. Ha! Ha! 
 Ha! (Seats herself on sofa and laughs 
 heartily.) 
 
 Marion {entering). Dinner is served, 
 Mademoiselle. 
 
 Sophie. Baron, I have two covers 
 laid. You will dine with me? 
 
 Baron. I should be so pleased, but 
 I dine with my mother to-day. 
 
 Sophie. And despise my truffles? 
 
 Baron. It grieves me very much to 
 refuse. 
 
 Sophie {gives him her hand). Au 
 revoir then. Shall you be at the Opera 
 to-morrow ? 
 
 Baron. Do you sing? 
 
 Sophie. So they say. 
 
Baron. 
 question ? 
 
 Sophie. 
 
 Baron, 
 companies 
 deeply.) 
 
 Sophie. 
 
 Baron, 
 again and 
 
 NEW year's EARCE 13 
 
 Then why this unnecessary- 
 Flatterer! Well, adieu. 
 Good-by, Sophie. (She ac- 
 him to the door; he sighs 
 
 What is the matter? 
 
 Oh, nothing, nothing. (Sighs 
 
 retires.) 
 
SCENE III. 
 
 Sophie, Marion. 
 
 Sophie {seats herself on sofa, places a 
 pillow back of her and rests her head 
 against it.) Marion. 
 
 Marion. Yes, Mademoiselle. 
 
 Sophie. Has Monsieur Didier 
 brought back the miniature which stood 
 on the mantel? 
 
 Marion. Ah! That portrait of your 
 mother which Monsieur Didier took to 
 retouch. No, Mademoiselle, he has not 
 been here. You would have heard 
 him if he had, for he enters the salon 
 like a bomb. Artists never think of 
 appearances. 
 
 Sophie. Hush, Marion. Monsieur 
 Didier is a friend of my childhood. He 
 covered the walls and fences with cari- 
 catures, while I hummed on my way to 
 
A NEW year's farce 15 
 
 school, and now he is a celebrated 
 painter. I look upon him as a brother, 
 and do not forget that I wish you to 
 speak of him with respect. 
 
 Marion. Oh, Mademoiselle, I am po- 
 lite to every one, and to this artist too. 
 
 Sophie. That is right, Marion; be 
 courteous to all. But, Marion, you have 
 a very sweet voice; did you ever think 
 of studying for the stage? 
 
 Marion. I have thought of it, but did 
 not wish to grieve my parents. 
 
 Sophie (aside). Prejudice. (Aloud.) 
 True, your father is a cook, and your 
 mother a fish-woman. 
 
 Marion. Yes, Mademoiselle. 
 
 Sophie. Ah, well; excuse me, my 
 child. (Aside.) It is unheard of. 
 (Aloud.) Marion, do you think that any 
 one could be happier than I? 
 
 Marion. Certainly not. Made- 
 moiselle. 
 
 Sophie. Think what it is to be petted 
 
l6 I DIND WITH MY MOTHER 
 
 and admired; to possess talent, youth; 
 to be artiste as well as a woman ; to go 
 from triumph to triumph with glory 
 and applause. I see dukes and counts 
 at my feet, the best blood of the land, 
 to whom my smile is sunshine, my 
 words pearls. And when I tire of flat- 
 tery, when I long for true, sincere ap- 
 plause, then I go before the public, who 
 have bought the right at the box-office 
 to tell me the truth. 
 
 These people are not flattering 
 friends. When they applaud me — what 
 joy, what triumph. They are inspired 
 by me, laugh at my joy, weep at my sor- 
 row. I am much praised and feted, 
 Marion. 
 
 Marion. Continually. 
 
 Sophie. What is the matter with me ? 
 Nothing, nothing. (Walks to the right.) 
 I possess diamonds fit for a queen; my 
 coffers are filled with gold; my salon 
 with the nobility. The grand dames 
 
A NEW year's farce 17 
 
 also besiege me, they who haven't a 
 single talent. You tell me, Marion, 
 that there is no happier woman in the 
 world than Sophie Arnould. {Goes to 
 the window.) How crowded the streets 
 are. 
 
 Marion {behind her). They always are 
 on New Year's Day. 
 
 Sophie. Yes ; New Years' is a charm- 
 ing invention. How happy every one is, 
 how gay — great and small. Marion, tell 
 my servants that I double their wages. 
 {Goes towards the sofa as she speaks.) 
 
 Marion. Oh ! and mine too ? 
 
 Sophie. Yours too. 
 
 Marion. Oh, how delightful! {Noise, 
 laughter outside.) 
 
 Sophie {jumps up from sofa). What 
 is that? 
 
 Count d'Hennin appears coming from the 
 right. 
 
 Marion. Count d'Hennin. {Places a 
 chair for him.) 
 
 2 
 
SCENE IV. 
 
 Count (approaches, laughing; throws 
 himself in an arm-chair). Ha! Ha! 
 
 Sophie. What is the matter, Count? 
 Explain to me. 
 
 Count. Excuse me, my dear, but — 
 (Laughs again.) 
 
 Sophie. Will you not tell me the 
 cause of this merriment, and the noise 
 under my windows? 
 
 Count. It is my New Year's gift to 
 you. Mademoiselle. 
 
 Sophie. What? 
 
 Count. Your horses have served you 
 long, so I replaced them by four Eng- 
 lish ones — spirited, full-blooded beasts. 
 
 Sophie. But your laughter? This 
 commotion ? 
 
 Count. Listen. As your stalls were 
 not sufficient, I set your old horses at 
 
A NEW YEAR S FARCE IQ 
 
 liberty. They looked so surprised, and 
 ran in all directions. 
 
 Sophie (laughing). You turned my 
 horses loose? 
 
 Count. It was so droll. They seemed 
 to say: *'What! Are we turned out of 
 house ? Shown the door without saddle 
 or carriage? Haven't we served our 
 lady faithfully?" By Heavens! these 
 beasts touched me. I put them back in 
 the stable. These new English ones 
 must stand a little closer, and now they 
 are all the best friends in the world. 
 And, my dearest Sophie, accept my best 
 wishes, and my horses. (Kisses her 
 hand.) 
 
 Sophie. It is truly a princely gift. 
 Two lackeys bring in a laid table, place it 
 
 before the chimney and retire. 
 
 Count. What, dinner here already. 
 (Looks at the clock.) My true love, my 
 beauty. I am pleased to find you so 
 
20 
 
 I DINE WITH MY MOTHER 
 
 well and happy. I will repeat my wishes, 
 kiss your hand, and withdraw. 
 
 Sophie {keeping him at arm^s length). 
 You are not going, Count? 
 
 Count. What ? 
 
 Sophie. No, Count. 
 
 Count. And why not, pray? 
 
 Sophie. Because I am going to keep 
 you to dinner. 
 
 Count. Oh, impossible, my dear. 
 Impossible? 
 Yes, I dine to-day with my 
 
 Sophie. 
 
 Count. 
 mother. 
 
 Sophie. 
 excuse, 
 letter. 
 
 Count. 
 all. 
 
 Sophie. 
 
 Count. 
 
 Sophie. 
 
 Count. 
 
 But you can write a word of 
 My servant shall carry the 
 
 How quickly you arrange it 
 
 It is so simple. 
 By no means, I must — 
 
 Why? 
 It is New Year's, a fete day. 
 
 a family reunion. I must confess, I sel- 
 
A NEW year's farce 21 
 
 dom visit my mother. If I stayed away 
 to-day she would think I were dead. 
 
 Sophie. But if you wrote? 
 
 Count. You do not know my moth- 
 er, she is not one to accept excuses. Pic- 
 ture a stately, pompous lady, seated in 
 an antique black oak chair, emblazoned 
 with the family arms. She has never 
 changed the manners, customs, or dress 
 of the olden times. In her eyes my 
 brother and I are the same lads that 
 used to come home from their tutor on 
 birthdays and New Years'. They were 
 the only days she ever kissed us — a 
 dignified kiss on the forehead, such as 
 she will give us to-day. Then will fol- 
 low a ceremonious dinner, the silence 
 only broken by my mother, who will 
 toast *'the olden times." It isn't gay, 
 but it is a sacred duty, and I have never 
 neglected it. A kiss from my mother 
 is something rare and precious, that I 
 cannot, will not renounce. 
 
22 I DINE WITH MY MOTHER 
 
 Sophie. And if you were ill? 
 
 Count. Then my mother would come 
 to me, but I am not. (Rises.) 
 
 Sophie (standing and touching his arm 
 retainingly). Don't go; send a note. 
 Stay with me, please do. The Count- 
 ess will forgive, and we will be so 
 happy. 
 
 Count. But, my dear— 
 
 Sophie. Going is just a whim. Stay, 
 Maurice ; will you not ? You will stay ? 
 
 Count. It would delight me; but, by 
 Heaven, I cannot! 
 
 Sophie. And I was silly enough to 
 think you loved me? 
 
 Count. Not love you, because I can- 
 not dine with you? I will to-morrow, 
 the day after, every day. 
 
 Sophie. I haven't invited you. 
 
 Count. I, not love you ! I, who have 
 fought ten duels for you! This morn- 
 ing I quarreled with Monsieur Kontan- 
 ges because he said your C in Norma 
 
A NEW YEAR S FARCE 23 
 
 was a Cis. If I had not loved you, would 
 I have challenged him, when the note 
 was somewhat doubtful? 
 
 Sophie (walking to the right). Go over 
 to my enemies ! Join them, hiss me 
 when I sing! 
 
 Count. Know that I fight for every 
 doubtful note. It was a C, and I should 
 like to kill Monsieur Fontanges. Am I 
 not worthy of love? Heavens! It is 
 already three o'clock. 
 
 Sophie. Are you going? 
 
 Count. Certainly. 
 
 Sophie. But I wish you to stay. I 
 insist. Do you hear? 
 
 Count (laughingly). "The King says 
 I will." But let us understand each 
 other. I shall go now, but return to 
 supper. It is understood, is it not? 
 (Tries to take her hand. Sophie pushes 
 him away. He takes his hat and goes as 
 far as the door; stops.) Will you not 
 say good-by? 
 
,24 I DINK WITH MY MOTHER 
 
 Sophie {standing behind arm-chair), 
 Maurice, if you cross that threshold you 
 never enter here again! 
 
 Count {approaching her). Are you in 
 earnest? Can't you understand? 
 
 Sophie. No excuses. Do you dine 
 with me, or not? 
 
 Count {decidedly). No, then, I cannot. 
 
 Sophie {walks to right). If you love 
 me stay; if not, go, but do not come 
 again. I am tired of coaxing. I know- 
 that some things mean more than gifts. 
 They only mean that a man is a million- 
 aire. 
 
 Count. But — 
 
 Sophie. You boast of a quarrel. 
 What is that to me? Did you fight 
 with that idea, or to show your sang 
 froid ? 
 
 Count. Sophie ! 
 
 Sophie. It is a hollow mockery. 
 
 Count {standing still). Sophie, there 
 are duties which, though they seem 
 
A NEW year's farce 25 
 
 trifling, are still held sacred. If you 
 cannot understand, so much the worse. 
 I love you truly, and should like to do 
 as you wish; but when my mother's 
 trembHng hand beckons me, I obey, 
 even at the cost of happiness. Good- 
 by. 
 
 Sophie. Good-by! {Count at the 
 door). One last word; I must tell you 
 {seats herself) that whatever happens, I 
 shall not eat alone. 
 
 Count. Is that your determination? 
 
 Sophie. I am decided.* 
 
 Count. With whom will you dine? 
 
 Sophie. With the first comer. 
 
 Count. Then I am satisfied. {Starts 
 again.) 
 
 Sophie. Probably with Baron Mar- 
 cilly. 
 
 Count {surprised). With Marcilly! 
 
 Sophie. Yes, with Baron Marcilly. 
 
 Count {with an effort). As you like. 
 
SCENE V. 
 
 Sophie {alone, rising). It is abomin- 
 able. They are all alike; they fall at 
 our feet, and swear eternal love, and pay 
 no attention to our wishes. {Standing 
 erect and walking about.) It annoys me 
 that he went in spite of all I said. What 
 is he, anyhow? A cold, selfish man; an 
 insignificant mind — in short, an every- 
 day sort of person, whose love is only 
 vanity. His vanity shall suffer. Mar- 
 cilly lives for me alone. He has no fam- 
 ily. I will ask him to dine. {Rings and 
 begins to write.) Marcilly is handsome. 
 He has but his cloak and sword, is 
 rich in sentiment alone; and the 
 Count will be so angry. {Servant ap- 
 pears.) Quick, this note to its ad- 
 dress. {Servant retires.) Now I feel 
 happier. {Sits down.) I was stifling 
 with indignation. Since I have written 
 this note, I breathe freer. Persons are 
 so willing to fight for me — perhaps the 
 duel only exists in his mind. 
 
A NEW year's farce 2/ 
 
 I should like to arrange the affair. 
 Fontanges should give him a stroke that 
 would tell. (Noise in the street.) What 
 is that noise again? (Goes to the win- 
 dozv,) Nothing, only the passing crowd 
 finds something gay in the New Year. 
 (Advances to the front.) How delighted 
 Marcilly will be ; he will not excuse him- 
 self. (Servant enters hastily.) A letter! 
 Give it to me quick. (Servant retires. 
 She reads.) "Your letter fills me with 
 joy, but unfortunately I dine with — " 
 (Does not read farther, but tears the letter 
 and crushes it in her hand.) This Mar- 
 cilly is a dunce. Alas! then I must 
 dine sadly alone, on New Year's Day, 
 and I have lost all appetite. Monsieur 
 Didier does not come either. (Goes to 
 the ^replace.) I counted him as my best 
 friend. So, I must strike him, too, from 
 the list. Ah, friendship, like love, is 
 only a breath. I am getting positively 
 hungry, yet alone I will not eat. 
 
SCENE VI. 
 
 Sophie and Marion. 
 
 Sophie (seats herself at table). Ah! 
 are you here, Marion? 
 
 Marion. Yes, Mademoiselle. I — 
 
 Sophie. How fine you look. 
 
 Marion. . Yes, Mademoiselle, I put 
 on my new dress, as I — 
 
 Sophie. Marion, you are a good girl. 
 I am pleased with you, and I am going 
 to bestow a great favor on you. Sit 
 down here, Marion. You shall eat with 
 me. 
 
 Marion. But, Mademoi — 
 
 Sophie. Well ! What is it ? 
 
 Marion. Have you forgotten? 
 
 Sophie. What? 
 
 Marion. That it is my holiday, when 
 Mademoiselle allows me to remain out 
 till 9 o'clock. 
 
A NEW year's farce 29 
 
 Sophie. Oh ! You have a home, too. 
 Well, you can take another day for 
 home. 
 
 Marion. Oh, Mademoi — 
 
 Sophie. What! When I do you the 
 honor to invite you to my table? 
 
 Marion. The honor is indeed great, 
 but will you not postpone it till to-mor- 
 row? 
 
 Sophie (angrily). W^hat do you say? 
 
 Marion. I do not know why Made- 
 moiselle should be angry. I certainly 
 do not mean to offend. 
 
 Sophie. Well, I accept your apology. 
 Now, sit down at the table. 
 
 Marion. Oh, Mademoiselle, I am so 
 sorry, but at home they will wait for 
 me. On New Year's Day we always 
 dine together, and I should expect to 
 be unlucky the whole year if I did not 
 go. 
 
 Sophie. What if I will not permit 
 you to go? 
 
30 I ' DINK WITH MY MOTHER 
 
 Marion. Then, sorry as I should 
 be— 
 
 Sophie, What? 
 
 Marion. Then — 
 
 Sophie. Speak ! 
 
 Marion. Then I should ask to be 
 discharged. 
 
 Sophie (rising). Very well, then. 
 Go! 
 
 Marion. Mademoiselle ! 
 
 Sophie. Straight out of my house. 
 A maid I took for pity, and now — 
 What! you do not go? 
 
 Marion (pleadingly). Believe me, 
 Mademoi — 
 
 Sophie. Must I call my servants? 
 (Rings.) Heavens ! how my head aches ; 
 it is these abominable flowers. Can no 
 other place be found for them? They 
 fill the salon, cover the floor. 
 
 Marion. Oh yes, certainly. 
 
 Sophie (rings all the bells). Have I no 
 
A NEW year's farce 31 
 
 servants to do my bidding? (Walks to 
 
 the right,) 
 
 Several servants appear with disturbed 
 
 countenances. 
 
 Servants. Did Madame ring? 
 
 Sophie. Yes, be quick. Throw these 
 flowers out of the window. (They hastily 
 4)bey.) Leave the windows open, that 
 the air may cool me. 
 
 Marion. Then, Mademoiselle, must 
 I— 
 
 Sophie. You must leave at once. 
 {Strides to the left.) Oh, how I am 
 served. My lackeys sleep all day. (To 
 coachman.) You use my horses as your 
 own. 
 
 Coachman. I — Madame ! 
 
 Sophie. Yes, you. I say to every 
 one of you, go! (To the chef.) And 
 you, what have you prepared for my 
 dinner? 
 
 Chef. Truffles, as you ordered, 
 Madame. 
 
32 I DINE WITH MY MOTHER 
 
 Sophie. Truffles, and nothing but 
 truffles ; for six weeks I have seen noth- 
 ing but truffles. 
 
 Chef. And all first marketings of the 
 season. 
 
 Sophie. The first of the season. Why 
 not diamonds and pearls? They would 
 not sooner bring me to poverty. Go J 
 I say to each of you, go ! I do not wish 
 to see your faces again. {Servants go 
 out. Sophie throws herself on the sofa.} 
 O Heavens! how unhappy I am. 
 
SCENE VII. 
 
 Sophie, Didier, Marion. 
 
 Didier {coming from the right, an- 
 nounces himself). Monsieur Didier, 
 artist. Good-day, Sophie; here is the 
 miniature again. The hand of friend- 
 ship has restored it. {Places it on the 
 mantel.) What a good, true face it is; 
 how the peasant dress suits it. Your 
 mother must have been a whole-heart- 
 ed, brave woman. {Takes an orange 
 from the table.) But we are forgetting 
 the season's greetings. Mademoiselle, 
 I wish you luck and happiness in the 
 New Year, as the latest phrase goes. 
 And here is my carte de visite. {Takes 
 her hand and kisses it.) Why so silent? 
 Ah, good Heavens! you weep. 
 
 Sophie. I? No. 
 
 3 
 
34 I DINE WITH MY MOTHER 
 
 Didier. But tell me, what is the mat- 
 ter? 
 
 Sophie. Nothing ; nothing. 
 
 Didier. "Nothing; nothing." But 
 there is something. Tell me; speak. 
 (Seats himself on a sofa beside her.) 
 
 Sophie. But, I assure you — 
 
 Didier. Ah, Sophie, you would de- 
 ceive me. Have you forgotten an old 
 house in the suburbs, and two gloomy 
 attic rooms ? In one, a young girl sang 
 her scales to the accompaniment of 
 a discordant piano; in the other a 
 young fellow daubed his canvas — 
 his chief furniture an easel. The 
 neighbors were friends, good warm 
 friends, nothing more. There was not 
 fire in the stove every day. There was 
 not always breakfast. There were no 
 presents, but plenty of advice. The 
 singer says to the artist, "I think those 
 clouds hang too low"; and the painter 
 says to the singer, "I think that C was 
 too high." Then they quarrel, but 
 
A NEW year's farce 35 
 
 finally the painter makes his clouds 
 higher, and the singer takes her C low- 
 er, and peace is restored. These chil- 
 dren dreamt of glory, of the world's ap- 
 plause. The young girl was you, So- 
 phie; the painter, I. The old house 
 still stands, and our friendship endures. 
 
 Sophie. My friend! 
 
 Didier. Share your sorrow with your 
 friend and it will grow less. Will you 
 not? 
 
 Sophie. Do you really wish to hear? 
 Then I will. To-day I have received 
 gifts fit for a queen. 
 
 Didier. Well! 
 
 Sophie. Hosts of people have sent 
 good wishes. 
 
 Didier. So far I see no cause for un- 
 happiness. 
 
 Sophie. But no one will dine with 
 me, Pierre; no one, not even the man 
 who professes to love me; not even my 
 maid. They all dine with their families. 
 
36 I DINE WITH MY MOTHER 
 
 I have no family. I thought I had 
 slaves and admirers. I did not know- 
 how alone in life I stood. I am very 
 silly. (Brushes away a tear,) 
 
 Didier. No. There are little needle 
 pricks which are very painful. You did 
 not expect it, and therefore the blow 
 has hurt you. My dear Sophie, I know 
 you have more heart and feeUng than 
 are usual with women of the world. 
 
 Sophie. My good Pierre, I have not 
 the courage to ask you. (Points to the 
 table.) 
 
 Didier. I would with all my heart, 
 but— 
 
 Sophie. I can guess. 
 
 Didier. I dine with — 
 
 Sophie (laughing bitterly, and rising). 
 I know, I know, and will not keep you 
 longer. Au revoir, my friend. 
 
 Didier. It is true. I cannot stay, and 
 yet it grieves me to leave you alone. 
 
A NEW year's farce 37 
 
 Ah, an idea! Be happy. {Rises and 
 goes to her,) 
 
 Sophie. What do you mean? 
 
 Didier. You will dine badly, certain- 
 ly ; but not alone. 
 
 Sophie. What ! You wish — 
 
 Didier. Do you object? Does our 
 simplicity frighten you? 
 
 Sophie. Frighten me? Oh, come. 
 
 Didier. But not in that costume. 
 
 Sophie. You do not admire it? 
 
 Didier. Too much; it is far too ele- 
 gant. Borrow a gown from your maid 
 — a simple woollen gown. That is the 
 usual thing with us. I will introduce 
 you as Mademoiselle Sophie, whose 
 needle serves me for 20 sous a day, and 
 you will be received with open arms. 
 
 Sophie. You are right. Marion! 
 (Rings, opens door, and calls again.) 
 
 Didier. She does not come. 
 
38 I DINE WITH MY MOTHER 
 
 Sophie. Good Heavens ! I forgot. I 
 dismissed her. 
 
 Didier. The good Marion. Why? 
 
 Sophie (pointing to table). Because she 
 would not — 
 
 Didier (laughing). Oh ! I understand. 
 
SCENE VIII. 
 
 (Enter Marion, eyes red with weeping, 
 satchel in hand.) 
 
 Marion. Mademoiselle, I come to 
 take leave. 
 
 Didier. Mademoiselle takes you 
 back, Marion. 
 
 Marion {dropping satchel). Oh! is it 
 true. Mademoiselle? 
 
 Sophie. Yes, Marion. Will you stay 
 with me? 
 
 Marion. Oh! how can I thank you? 
 
 Sophie. By loaning me a dress. 
 
 Marion. I loan you a dress? I, to 
 you? 
 
 Sophie. You, to me. 
 
 Marion. The best that — 
 
 Sophie. The simplest. 
 
 Marion {opening her satchel). Will this 
 do? 
 
 Sophie. Yes. Won't it, Pierre? 
 
40* I DINK WITH MY MOTHER 
 
 Didier. It is rather dressy, but it will 
 do. 
 
 Sophie. Dress me, Marion. Pierre! 
 
 Didier. Sophie ! 
 
 Sophie. Did you hear? 
 
 Didier {without disturbing himself). 
 Certainly. 
 
 Sophie. Wait for me a few moments, 
 and look at a book. 
 
 Didier. Very well. {Takes a hook 
 and seats himself on sofa.) So ! 
 
 Sophie. And turn your back. 
 
 Didier. So! {Turns around.) 
 
 Sophie. And don't look in the mirror. 
 
 Didier. Oh ! an artist doesn't count. 
 
 Sophie. They are the most observ- 
 ing. 
 
 Didier {pensively, zvhile Marion assists 
 Sophie). Isn't friendship a beautiful 
 thing, Sophie? 
 
 Sophie. I certainly agree with you. 
 
 Didier. For example, here is one of 
 the most beautiful women of Paris — 
 
A NEW year's farce 4^ 
 
 for you are one of the most beautiful 
 women of Paris. (Turns half toward 
 her.) 
 
 Sophie. Now ! Now ! 
 
 Didier (assuming former position). 
 Well, then, a charming young woman 
 makes her toilette in the presence of a 
 handsome young man ; for between our- 
 selves, I am a handsome young man. 
 
 Sophie. Will you stop looking in the 
 mirror ? 
 
 Didier. Right! Well, then, here are 
 two young and handsome people; one 
 in trouble, and the other full of sadness, 
 because love is not in the game. Oh 
 friendship, friendship, thou art true, 
 when love deserts us! 
 
 Sophie. Now I am ready. 
 
 Didier. May I look, then? 
 
 Sophie. You may. Marion, you have 
 the evening free. Tell all the servants 
 I take them back. 
 
42 I DINE WITH MY MOTHER 
 
 Marion. And, Mademoiselle, do you 
 double our wages? 
 
 Sophie. I triple them. 
 
 Marion. Oh, how lovely! What 
 luck. (Retires.) 
 
 Didier. How charming you look. 
 
 Sophie. Like a maid? 
 
 Didier. You remind me of our attic. 
 
 Sophie. We walk, I suppose. A 
 change will be agreeable. 
 
 Didier. It won't be a change for me. 
 
 Sophie. If my carriage were seen 
 they would know at once it was Sophie 
 Arnould. 
 
 Didier. That reminds me that I have 
 something to tell you. 
 
 Sophie. Speak. 
 
 Didier {earnestly). Dearest Sophie, 
 my father is a poor, honest-hearted 
 mason; my mother a simple, good 
 woman, who thinks me morally and 
 physically a masterpiece of creation. If 
 you love me, do not disillusion her. 
 
A NEW year's farce 43 
 
 They will probably set a cabbage soup 
 before you, made in my honor. I don't 
 like it, but always take a double portion 
 to please them. You must not show 
 any fastidiousness if you do not wish to 
 offend my parents. You will notice 
 many peculiarities in their speech, but I 
 am sure you will show your usual kind- 
 ness and charity. Strangers might laugh 
 at them, but you will not, for it would 
 grieve me. I warn you, you will not eat 
 from rare china, and you will find a 
 wretched looking dog there ; he is a pet 
 of the household. Now come. {Takes 
 her arm.) 
 
 Sophie {stopping at the door). Pierre? 
 
 Didier. Have you forgotten some- 
 thing? 
 
 Sophie. No. But are you really will- 
 ing to take me with you? 
 
 Didier {astonished). Why, certainly! 
 
 Sophie {extending hand). I thank you, 
 
44 I DINE WITH MY MOTHER 
 
 my friend. That is all I wish. {Comes 
 forward.) 
 
 Didier. What? Has my description 
 frightened you? 
 
 Sophie, Do not think that. Were I 
 truly the Mademoiselle Sophie you 
 wish to present, I should not hesitate 
 a moment; but I am Sophie Arnould, 
 and my place is as little in your moth- 
 er's house as in that of the Countess 
 d'Hennin — 
 
 Didier. Why, what does this mean? 
 
 Sophie. Hear me, my friend. Your 
 parents might see me some day in my 
 carriage and learn who I am, and it 
 might not be pleasing to them. So 
 good-by, and thank you. You have 
 shown me that I am not so forlorn as I 
 fancied, and that has done my heart 
 good. Good-by, my friend and brother. 
 
 Didier. You abide by that decision? 
 
 Sophie. I really must. It is better 
 so. 
 
A NEW YEAR S EARCE 45 
 
 Didier, You act like a noble, whole- 
 souled woman. I only thought to make 
 you happy. You think of my duty. 
 (Takes both her hands.) I came laughing 
 and found you weeping, and now I am in 
 tears. Farewell, my good Sophie. Au 
 revoir. 
 
SCENE IX. 
 
 Sophie. The brave fellow. And the 
 good Count, I misjudged him; but he 
 will come back and forgive me. (Stands 
 coquettishly before the mirror.) He is so 
 good, so awfully good. (Takes her 
 mother^ s miniature in her hand, and con- 
 templates it thoughtfully.) Ah, they are 
 all right, to place home and family above 
 every thing. Oh, my mother! (Kisses 
 miniature and while speaking crosses the 
 room, places the portrait on the table, and 
 seats herself.) 
 
SCENE X. 
 
 Sophie alone (enter Marion in breathless 
 haste.) 
 
 Marion. Mademoiselle, dear Made- 
 moiselle. 
 
 Sophie. What is it, Marion? 
 
 Marion. I have told my mother, and 
 she says I may stay and dine with you. 
 
 Sophie. I thank you, my child; but 
 I will not spoil your family party. 
 
 Marion. But really. Mademoiselle, I 
 do not wish to leave you alone. 
 
 Sophie (gaily). I am not alone, 
 Marion. See (pointing to picture), I also 
 dine with my mother. 
 
M1G57GG 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CAUFORNIA UBRARY