  Musotte's bedroom, neatly furnished, but without luxury. Disordered bed stands L. A screen stands L. I. E., almost hiding Musotte, who lies stretched at length upon a steamer-chair. Beside the bed is a cradle, the head of which is turned up stage. On the mantelpiece and on small tables at R. and L. are vials of medicine, cups, chafing-dish, etc. A table stands, R. I. E. Musotte is sleeping. La Babin and Mme. Flache stand C. looking at her. LA BABIN [in low tones] How she sleeps! MME. FLACHE [in the same voice] But she will not sleep long now, unless she is going into her last sleep. LA BABIN Oh, there is no chance of that. That is enough to give one the horrors. Fancy losing one's life for a child! MME. FLACHE But how can you prevent it? Death is as necessary as birth, or the world would become too small for us all. LA BABIN [sits R. of table] All people ought to die in the same way and at the same age—every one of us; then one would know what to expect. MME. FLACHE [pours out some tea] What simple ideas you have, Madame Babin! Personally, I would rather not know the hour of my death. I would sooner finish my life while sleeping in the middle of the night—during slumber—without suffering—by a sudden failure of the heart. LA BABIN Look at the sick woman. How silly of her to wish to rest upon that steamer-chair as she has done. The doctor told her plainly that such an effort would probably finish her. MME. FLACHE [sits L. of table] Oh, I understand her motive. When a girl like her has a lover she commits every kind of folly, and more especially, nurse, when they are at all coquettish; but you country people do not know anything about such things. They are coquettish through and through. That is the reason she wished to look her prettiest. She was afraid of being thought ugly, don't you understand? So I had to put on her peignoir, and tidy her up, and arrange her hair just as I have done. LA BABIN Oh, these Parisians! It is necessary that they should have a hairdresser even to the last gasp! [A short silence.] But will this gentleman of hers come? MME. FLACHE I do not think so. Men are not overfond of obeying the calls of their former mistresses at such times, and then, this lover of hers was married to-day, poor fellow! LA BABIN Well, that is a joke. MME. FLACHE I should say so. LA BABIN Certainly, then, he won't come. In such a case would you go to see a man? MME. FLACHE Oh, if I loved him very much I should go. LA BABIN Even if you were marrying another the same day? MME. FLACHE Just the same. For such a combination of circumstances would pierce my heart; would penetrate me with a strong emotion,—and, oh, I am so fond of such emotions! LA BABIN Well, so far as I am concerned, I certainly would not go. I should be too much afraid of the shock. MME. FLACHE But Doctor Pellerin asserts that the man will come. LA BABIN Do you know this physician well? MME. FLACHE Who, Doctor Pellerin? LA BABIN Yes; he has the air of a charming man of the world. MME. FLACHE Oh, yes; he is all that, but he is also a good physician. Then he is such good company, and has such a smooth tongue. And you know he is not physician to the Opera for nothing. LA BABIN That little puppy of a— MME. FLACHE A puppy! You don't very often find puppies among men of his caliber, and then,-oh, how he used to love the girls! Oh, oh! Although, for the matter of that, there are many physicians who are like him. It was at the Opera that I first met him. LA BABIN At the Opera! MME. FLACHE Yes, at the Opera. You know, I was a dancer there for eight years. Yes, indeed, even I—just as you see me, a dancer at the Opera. LA BABIN You, Madame Flache! MME. FLACHE Yes, my mother was a midwife, and taught me the business at the same time that she taught me dancing, because she always said it was well to have two strings to your bow. Dancing, you see, is all very well, provided you are not too ambitious of appearing on first nights, but, unhappily, that was the case with me. I was as slender as a thread when I was twenty, and very agile, but I grew fat and scant of breath, and became rather heavy in my steps; so when my mother died, as I had my diploma as a midwife, I took her apartment and her business, and I added the title of “Midwife to the Opera,” for all their business comes to me. They like me very much there. When I was dancing, they used to call me Mademoiselle Flacchi the premiÈre. LA BABIN Then you have been married since then? MME. FLACHE No, but a woman in my profession should always assume the title of Madame for the sake of its dignity. You know, it gives confidence. But, how about you, nurse, from what place do you come? You know, you have only just come here, and nobody consulted me about engaging you. LA BABIN I am from Yvetot. MME. FLACHE Is this your first engagement as a nurse? LA BABIN No, my third. I have had two daughters and a little boy. MME. FLACHE And your husband, is he a farmer or a gardener? LA BABIN [Simply] I am not married. MME. FLACHE [laughing] Not married, and with three children! Upon my word, let me compliment you; you are indeed precocious. LA BABIN Don't talk about it; it was not my will. It is the good God who does these things. One cannot prevent it. MME. FLACHE How simple you are! Now you will probably have a fourth child. LA BABIN That's very possible. MME. FLACHE Well, what does your lover do? What is his business? Or perhaps you have more than one? LA BABIN [with indignation] There has never been more than one. I give you my word, upon my hope of salvation. He is a lemonade-seller at Yvetot. MME. FLACHE Is he a handsome fellow? LA BABIN I believe you, indeed! He is handsome! [Confidentially.] If I tell you all this, it is only because you are a midwife, and a midwife in such affairs as this is like a priest in the confessional. But you, Madame Flache, you, who have been a dancer at the Opera, you must also have had, surely—little love affairs—little intrigues? MME. FLACHE [evidently flattered, and in a dreamy tone] Oh, yes, one or two! LA BABIN [laughs] And have you never had—this sort of accident? [Points to the cradle.] MME. FLACHE No. LA BABIN How did that come? MME. FLACHE [rises and approaches the mantelpiece] Probably because I was a midwife. LA BABIN Well, I know one in your profession who has had five. MME. FLACHE [with contempt] She evidently did not come from Paris. LA BABIN That's true; she came from Courbevoie. MUSOTTE [in a feeble voice] Is no one there? MME. FLACHE She is awakening. There, there! [Folds up the screen which hides the long steamer-chair.] MUSOTTE Hasn't he come yet? MME. FLACHE No. MUSOTTE He will arrive too late—my God! My God! MME. FLACHE What an idea! He will come. MUSOTTE And my little darling—my child? MME. FLACHE He is sleeping like an angel. MUSOTTE [after looking at herself in a hand-mirror] I must not look like this when he comes. Oh, God! Bring my child—I want to see him. MME. FLACHE But if I show him to you he will wake up, and who knows if he will go to sleep again. MUSOTTE Bring the cradle here. [A gesture of refusal from Mme Flache.] Yes, yes! I insist, [Mme. Flache and the nurse gently bring the cradle to her.] Nearer, nearer, so that I can see him well—the darling! My child, my child! And I am going to leave him! Soon I shall disappear into the unknown. Oh. God, what agony! MME. FLACHE Now don't go worrying yourself like that; you are not as ill as you think. I have seen lots worse than you. Come, come! you are going to recover. Take away the cradle, nurse. [They put the cradle again in its place; then to the nurse.] That will do, that will do. Watch me. You know very well that it is only I who can quiet it. [Sits near the cradle, and sings a lullaby while rocking it.] “A little gray fowl Came into the barn, To lay a big egg For the good boy that sleeps. Go to sleep, go to sleep, My little chicken! Go to sleep, sleep, my chick!” LA BABIN [stands near the end of the mantelpiece, drinks the sugared water, and slips loaf sugar into her pocket; aside] I must not forget the main thing. I have just seen in the kitchen the remains of a leg of mutton, to which I should like to go and say a few words. I am breaking in two with hunger just now. MME. FLACHE [sings softly] “A little black fowl Came into the room, To lay a big egg For the good boy that sleeps. Sleep, sleep, my little chicken, Sleep, oh, sleep, my chick!” MUSOTTE [from the long chair, after moaning several times] Has he gone to sleep again? MME. FLACHE [goes toward Musotte] Yes, Mademoiselle, just as if he were a little Jesus. Do you wish to know what I think about him, this young man lying here? You will lead him to the altar for his marriage. He is a jewel, like yourself, my dear. MUSOTTE Do you really think him pretty? MME. FLACHE On the honor of a midwife, I have seldom brought into the world one so pretty. It is a pleasure to know that one has brought to the light such a little Cupid as he is. MUSOTTE And to think that in a few hours, perhaps, I shall see him no more; look at him no more; love him no more! MME. FLACHE Oh, no, no! You are talking unreasonably. MUSOTTE Ah, I know it too well! I heard you talking with the nurse. I know that the end is very near; this night, perhaps. Would the doctor have written to Jean to come and see me on this evening—the evening of his marriage—if I were not at the point of death? [The bell rings. Musotte utters a cry.] Ah, there he is! it is he! Quick! quick! Oh, God, how I suffer! [Exit Mme. Flache C. Musotte gazes after her. Enter Dr. Pellerin, in evening clothes.]
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