tly 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 hums 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's--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
m