LITMIR.BIZ

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Man and Wife sit at table Right Center.]

      Waiter [to the Townsman]. What can I bring you?

      Townsman. For the child, a glass of milk, but be sure it's well cooked. [To the Child.] A little glass of good ninni for my darling, a glass of ninni from the big moo cow.

      Townsman [mocking her]. And for me a glass of red wine—a little glass of good red wine for the big moo-ox.

      Townswoman [angry]. That's just like you. Begrudge a glass of milk to your own child—naturally—so long as you have your cigar and your wine—

      Townsman. My dear, I hereby give little Phillip permission to drink three cows dry. And of my next week's wages, you may buy him a whole herd of cows.

      Child. I want chocolate! Chocolate, mama!

      Townsman. You shall have it. As much as you want. Wouldn't you perhaps like to have a glass of champagne, little Phillip, and a Henry Clay cigar and a salad made of a big moo-chicken?

      Young Man [getting up, x to Center. Jumps up and runs to the Artist]. Sir! Sir! This is unheard of. You've been drawing this lady all the time. She is a respectable lady, do you understand? For all you know she may be my wife.

      Artist [phlegmatically]. More than that—for all I know she may be your mother.

      Young Man [stammering]. My dear sir—I must call you to account—what do you mean by—

      Artist. Why are you so excited? Isn't it a good likeness?

      Young Man [confused]. Of course, it's a good likeness, that is—I ask you, sir, how dare you to draw a picture of my bride?

      Townsman. These young people are quarreling. You always bring me to places like this. We can never go out together but there's a scandal.

      Cocotte [who has drawn near and is examining the drawing]. I like that. I'd like to own the drawing.

      Artist. My dear lady, if it would give you any pleasure....

      Cocotte. I couldn't think of taking it. [To the boy.] Buy me the picture. Sweetheart, will you buy it for me?

      Young Man. I don't think much of it. You are far, far prettier.

      Cocotte. You won't refuse me this one little request. How much do you ask for the picture?

      Artist. I hadn't thought of selling it—but because it is such a good likeness of you, ten francs. But you must promise that in return you will sit for me again—[With emphasis.] perhaps at my studio. To-morrow at noon?

      Cocotte. Gladly! Very gladly! [The young man pays for the sketch.] Would you care to sit down and have something with us?

      Artist. If your fiancé doesn't object?

      Young Man [coldly]. Charmed! [The three sit.]

      The Child. The chocolate is no good. I want some moo milk.

      Townsman. In a minute, I'll take my moo stick and tan your moo hide.

      American. [Enters leading a dog on a leash.] [From Left x Center.]

      Beggar [sings].

      The rich man his banquet hall

       Has everything I long for,

       The poor man gets the crumbs that fall,

       That's what I sing this song for.

       Kind sir, have pity while you can,

       Remember the old beggar man,

       The poor beggar man.

      American. [Has listened to the entire song impassively.] Are you through? Waiter, put a muzzle on this man. [x to Table Right.]

      Townswoman. That is what I call an elegant man. I have always wanted you to have a suit made like that. Ask him where he got it and what it cost.

      Townsman. I couldn't ask an utter stranger what his clothes cost.

      Townswoman. Of course not, but if it was a woman you would have been over there long ago.

      Child. Mama, the bow-wow dog is biting me.

      Townsman. My dear sir, your dog is biting my son.

      American. You're mistaken, madame. My dog has been carefully trained to eat none other than boiled meat.

      Artist [to the Young Man]. Pardon me for asking—but is the lady your wife or your fiancé?

      American [sits, puts his legs on the two extra chairs]. Waiter! Garçon! Bring me a quart of Cliquot, and bring my dog a menu card.

      [At the word "Cliquot" the Cocotte looks up and begins to flirt with the American.]

      Child. The bow-wow dog is making faces at me.

      Townsman. Look here, sir, your dog is certainly about to bite my child.

      American [lights his pipe]. How much does your child cost?

      Townsman. Cost! My child! Did you ever hear of such a thing? I want you to understand that my child p—

      American. Waiter! Tell this woman not to shout so!—How much does your child cost?

      Townsman. My child costs—nothing! Do you understand?

      American. Well, your child costs nothing—my dog costs eight dollars. Think that over—is your son a thoroughbred? My dog is of the purest breed—think that over—if your son hurts my dog I'll hold you responsible. Think that over. [Fills his glass.]

      Cocotte. What do you think that man to be, little mouse?

      Young Man. A full blooded American.

      Artist. I should say he's a German who has spent two weeks in New York.

      Townsman. Aristide, are you going to sit there and permit your defenseless wife to be insulted like that?

      Townsman. As long as you have your tongue, my dear, you are not defenseless.

      Townswoman. It is your business to talk to him. [Kisses the Child.] My poor little Phillip! Your father is no man.

      Townsman. I was before I got married. [Crosses to the American.] Sir, my name is Aristide Beaurepard.

      American. Is that my fault?

      Townsman. I am the father of a family.

      American. I am very sorry for you, indeed.

      Townsman. I have a wife and children—

      American. You have only yourself to blame.

      Townsman. Your dog—

      American. I have no desire to discuss dogs with you. I don't believe you know anything about thoroughbred dogs. Waiter, sit this man down in his place.

      Townsman. This is I must say, this is—

      Waiter. Monsieur, you must not make a racket around you. This is a first class establishment. A real prince once dined here, I would have you understand. Come on now, if you please. [Leads Townsman back to his seat.]

      Townsman [sits unwillingly]. Not a centime tip will that fellow get from me. Not a centime.

      American. Waiter, Waiter, bring my dog a portion of liver, and not too fat. And a roast potato.

      Beggar. [Coming down C.] [Jumps up, cries out wildly.] I can't stand any more. For eight days I have not had a warm morsel of food in my stomach. I am not a human being any more. I'll kill myself. [Runs to the edge of the dock and jumps overboard.] [The splash of the water is heard. The Townswoman and the Waiter call "help, help!" Whereupon, from every side a crowd collects so that the entire background is filled with people staring into the water.]

      Townswoman.

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