Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 30

LAMBLIN [_brightening_]. Is that true? [_Madame Bail nods._] How happy I am! [_A pause. His att.i.tude changes._] But there's one thing that troubles me.

MADAME BAIL. What?

LAMBLIN [_embarra.s.sed_]. No, nothing.

MADAME BAIL. Confide in me. Tell me. [_A pause._]

LAMBLIN. Well, that lady who came here this evening--I'm afraid I was a little short with her. I think I offended her. I practically showed her the door.

MADAME BAIL. Don't worry about that. Perhaps you weren't so rude as you thought you were.

LAMBLIN. No, I'm sure. I know very well that--

MADAME BAIL. You mustn't worry and get all excited--

LAMBLIN. Do you know anything about it?

MADAME BAIL. No, nothing, only--as I rather suspected what was going on in here--and was afraid--of a quarrel--I met her as she was going out, and I--spoke to her.

LAMBLIN [_taking her hands--joyfully_]. I thank you! [_They are both embarra.s.sed for a moment, then sit down._] Ah, good. Well, and Marthe?

MADAME BAIL [_pointing to Marthe who enters_]. There she is. What did I tell you? [_Marthe enters without saying a word. She brings her work, Madame Bail takes up hers, and sits next her. A pause. Madame Bail speaks to Marthe._] What a pretty design! Where did you find the pattern?

MARTHE. I just picked it up at the store.

MADAME BAIL. It's charming. I must get one like it.

LAMBLIN [_ill at ease_]. May I see it, little one? [_Marthe unrolls the embroidery for him and shows it._] Oh, it's perfectly lovely! We men would be hard put to it to make anything half as beautiful! [_He laughs awkwardly, and pours out some cognac, in full sight of Marthe._]

MARTHE [_quickly_]. That's ridiculous, Alfred. [_Then she says slowly, as she lowers her eyes._] You'll make yourself ill!

LAMBLIN [_in perfect contentment_]. How charming she is!

[_Curtain._]

FRANcOISE' LUCK

A COMEDY

BY GEORGES DE PORTO-RICHE (La Chance de Francoise.) TRANSLATED BY BARRETT H. CLARK.

Copyright, 1917, by Stewart & Kidd Company.

All rights reserved.

PERSONS REPRESENTED

MARCEL DESROCHES.

GUeRIN.

JEAN.

FRANcOISE.

MADELEINE.

SCENE: _Auteuil_.

TIME: _Present_.

Presented for the first time December 10,1888, in Paris, at the Theatre Libre.

FRANcOISE' LUCK is reprinted from "Four Plays of the Free Theatre,"

translated by Barrett H. Clark by permission of Messrs. Stewart & Kidd Company, Cincinnati, Ohio.

FRANcOISE' LUCK

A COMEDY BY GEORGES DE PORTO-RICHE

[_A studio. At the back is a door opening upon a garden; doors to the right and left; likewise a small inconspicuous door to the left. There are a few pictures on easels. The table is littered with papers, books, weapons, bric-a-brac. Chairs and sofas. It is eleven o'clock in the morning._]

FRANcOISE [_a small, frail woman, with a melancholy look, at times rather mocking. As the curtain rises she is alone. She raises and lowers the window-blind from time to time_]. A little more! There! Oh, the sunlight! How blinding! [_Glancing at the studio with satisfaction._]

How neat everything is! [_In attempting to take something from the table, she knocks some papers to the floor._] Well! [_Seeing a letter, among the papers she is picking up._] A letter! From Monsieur Guerin--[_Reading._] "My dear friend, why do you persist in keeping silence? You say very little of the imprudent woman who has dared to become the companion of the handsome Marcel! Do you recompense her for her confidence in you, for her courage? You are not at all like other men: your frivolity, if you will permit the term, your--" [_Interrupting herself._] He writes the word! [_Continuing._] "Your cynicism makes me tremble for you. Absent for a year! How much friendship gone to waste!

Why were we thrust apart the moment you were married? Why did my wife's health make sunlight an absolute necessity for her? We are now leaving Rome; in a month I'll drop in on you at Auteuil--" [_Interrupting herself again._] Very soon!

[_Marcel appears at the back._]

"I am very impatient to see you, and Very anxious to see Madame Desroches. I wonder whether she will take to me? I hope she will. Take care, you villain, I shall cross-question her carefully, and if I find the slightest shadow upon her happiness, her friend-to-be will be an angry man." [_She stops reading and says to herself, sadly._] A friend--I should like that!

MARCEL [_carelessly dressed. He is of the type that appeals to women_].

Ah, inquisitive, you read my letters?

FRANcOISE. Oh, it's an old one--

MARCEL [_chaffing her_]. From Guerin?

FRANcOISE. I found it there, when I was putting the studio in order.

MARCEL [_tenderly_]. The little romantic child is looking for a friend?

FRANcOISE. I have so much to tell, so much about my recent happiness!