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By Root 1126 0



SCENE VIII

MACAIRE, BERTRAND, who instantly takes a bottle from the
wedding-table, and sits with it, L.

MACAIRE. Bertrand, there's a devil of a want of a father here.

BERTRAND. Ay, if we only knew where to find him.

MACAIRE. Bertrand, look at me: I am Macaire; I am that father.

BERTRAND. You, Macaire? you a father?

MACAIRE. Not yet, but in five minutes. I am capable of
anything. (PRODUCING KEY.) What think you of this?

BERTRAND. That? Is it a key?

MACAIRE. Ay, boy, and what besides? my diploma of
respectability, my patent of fatherhood. I prigged it - in the
ardour of the dance I prigged it; I change it beyond recognition,
thus (TWISTS THE HANDLE OF THE KEY); and now . . .? Where is my
long-lost child? produce my young policeman! show me my gallant
boy!

BERTRAND. I don't understand.

MACAIRE. Dear innocence, how should you? Your brains are in
your fists. Go and keep watch. (HE GOES INTO THE OFFICE AND
RETURNS WITH THE CASH-BOX.) Keep watch, I say.

BERTRAND. Where?

MACAIRE. Everywhere. (HE OPENS BOX.)

BERTRAND. Gold.

MACAIRE. Hands off! Keep watch. (BERTRAND AT BACK OF STAGE.)
Beat slower, my paternal heart! The third compartment; let me
see.

BERTRAND. S'st! (MACAIRE SHUTS BOX.) No; false alarm.

MACAIRE. The third compartment. Ay, here t-

BERTRAND. S'st! (SAME BUSINESS.) No: fire away.

MACAIRE. The third compartment: it must be this.

BERTRAND. S'st! (MACAIRE, KEEPS BOX OPEN, WATCHING BERTRAND.)
All serene; it's the wind.

MACAIRE. Now, see here! (HE DARTS HIS KNIFE INTO THE STAGE.) I
will either be backed as a man should be, or from this minute out
I'll work alone. Do you understand? I said alone.

BERTRAND. For the Lord's sake, Macaire! -

MACAIRE. Ay, here it is. (READING LETTER). 'Preserve this
letter secretly; its terms are known only to you and me: hence
when the time comes, I shall repeat them, and my son will
recognise his father.' Signed: 'Your Unknown Benefactor.' (HE
TURNS IT OVER TWICE AND REPLACES IT. THEN, FINGERING THE GOLD)
Gold! The yellow enchantress, happiness ready-made and laughing
in my face! Gold: what is gold? The world; the term of ills;
the empery of all; the multitudinous babble of the change, the
sailing from all ports of freighted argosies; music, wine, a
palace; the doors of the bright theatre, the key of consciences,
and love - love's whistle! All this below my itching fingers;
and to set this by, turn a deaf ear upon the siren present, and
condescend once more, naked, into the ring with fortune -
Macaire, how few would do it! But you, Macaire, you are
compacted of more subtile clay. No cheap immediate pilfering:
no retail trade of petty larceny; but swoop at the heart of the
position, and clutch all!

BERTRAND (AT HIS SHOULDER). Halves!

MACAIRE. Halves? (HE LOCKS THE BOX.) Bertrand, I am a father.

(REPLACES BOX IN OFFICE.)

BERTRAND (LOOKING AFTER HIM). Well, I - am - damned!

DROP.


ACT II.

When the curtain rises, the night has come. A hanging cluster of
lighted lamps over each table, R. and L. MACAIRE, R., smoking a
cigarette; BERTRAND, L., with a church-warden: each with bottle
and glass.

SCENE I

MACAIRE, BERTRAND

MACAIRE. Bertrand, I am content: a child might play with me.
Does your pipe draw well?

BERTRAND. Like a factory chimney. This is my notion of life:
liquor, a chair, a table to put my feet on, a fine clean pipe,
and no police.

MACAIRE. Bertrand, do you see these changing exhalations? do you
see these blue rings and spirals, weaving their dance, like a
round of fairies, on the footless air?

BERTRAND. I see 'em right enough.

MACAIRE. Man of little vision, expound me these meteors! what do
they signify, O wooden-head? Clod, of what do they consist?

BERTRAND. Damned bad tobacco.

MACAIRE. I will give you a little course of science.
Everything, Bertrand (much as it may surprise you), has three
states: a vapour, a liquid, a solid. These
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