thing that will make all Paris shudder . . .
Beauperthuis.—Give me my pistols!
Fadinard (Beside himself).—Give me that hat! . . . The hat, or your life!
Beauperthuis (Choking with fear).—This is unparalleled in all the annals of humanity! Here I am, taking a footbath, and awaiting my wife, when in rushes a fellow who is raving about a hat; and proceeds to hold me up with my own pistols!
Fadinard (Emphatically, leading him to the center of the stage).—It is tragic; you are not aware . . . A straw hat is eaten by my horse . . . in the Bois, at Vincennes . . . while its owner was strolling in the wood with a young soldier . . .
Beauperthuis.—Well? What is that to me?
Fadinard.—You're not aware of the fact that they've fastened themselves to me—perhaps for three, six, nine . . .
Beauperthuis.—Why doesn't this young widow go home?
Fadinard.—Young widow! Would to heaven she were! But there is a husband!
Beauperthuis (Laughing).—Ha, ha, ha!
Fadinard.—A booby, a knave, an idiot; who would grind her beneath his heel . . . like pepper seed . . .
Beauperthuis.—I understand . . .
Fadinard.—Yes, but we'll make a fool of him—this husband of hers; thanks to you—the knave! Oh, won't we pull wool over his eyes?
Beauperthuis.—Sir, I oughn't to lend myself to such . . .
Fadinard.—Hurry; here's the fragment. (Shows it to him.)
Beauperthuis (Aside, studying it).—Ye Gods!
Fadinard.—Leghorn straw, red poppies . . .
Beauperthuis.—It is; it is hers! And she's at his house; the suede gloves were a blind!
Fadinard.—Let's see; how much . . .
Beauperthuis (Aside).—Ah, something terrible is going to happen. (Aloud.) Let us go, Sir! (Takes him by the arm.)
Fadinard.—Where?
Beauperthuis.—To your house . . .
Fadinard.—Without the hat?
Beauperthuis.—Silence! (Listens at the room which Helene entered.)
Virginie (Entering at the back).—Sir, I've been to Gros-Caillou; nobody!
Beauperthuis (Listening).—Hush!
