be painted cardboard, painted cardboard for the rockery, the
water, the plants . . . Ah, but I think a baby like this one
would sooner have a make-believe fountain than a real one,
so she could play with it. What a joke it'll be for the
others! But for you, alas! not quite such a joke: you who are
real, baby dear, and really play by a real fountain that is big
and green and beautiful, with ever so many bamboos around
it that are reflected in the water, and a whole lot of little
ducks swimming about . . . No, Rosetta, no, your mother
doesn't bother about you on account of that wretch of a
son there. I'm in the devil of a temper, and as for that
lad . . . (Seizes Boy by the arm to force him to take one of
his hands out of his pockets). What have you got there?
What are you hiding? (Pulls his hand out of his pocket,
looks into it and catches the glint of a revolver). Ah! where
did you get this?

(THE Boy, very pale in the face, looks at her, but does
not answer).

Idiot! If I'd been in your place, instead of killing myself,
I'd have shot one of those two, or both of them: father and
son.

(THE FATHER enters from the office, all excited from his
work. THE MANAGER follows him).

THE FATHER. Come on, come on dear! Come here for
a minute! We've arranged everything. It's all fixed up.

THE MANAGER (also excited). If you please, young
lady, there are one or two points to settle still. Will you
come along?

THE STEP-DAUGHTER (following him towards the
office). Ouff! what's the good, if you've arranged every-
thing.

(THE FATHER, MANAGER and STEP-DAUGHTER go back
into the office again (off) for a moment. At the same time,
THE SON followed by THE MOTHER, comes out).

-31-