FRENCH WITHOUT A MASTER
Scene:—A small office in a hotel. There is a large
door center, giving upon the hallway. Down-stage
and up-stage to the right are doors;
similar doors on the left. Half-way down-stage
on the left is the Cashier’s desk, with
inkstands and register. On the walls are
posters and train schedules. Half-way down-stage
and a little to left of center is a table
covered with magazines, etc., and a telephone.
As the curtain rises, the Porter is seen seated
on a small stool just below the Cashier’s desk.
A moment later, enter Gerald and Séraphine,
each with a valise. Séraphine is typically
French and wears stylish clothes of the latest
cut; Gerald is equally well dressed. He goes
to the Porter, lays down his valise, takes that
of Séraphine and places it beside his own.
Gerald. We’d like two rooms, please.
Porter. One moment, sir; I’ll call the cashier.
Gerald. Is there a telegraph office around here?
Porter. Yes, sir, it’s just around the corner.
Shall I take your message, sir?
Gerald. No, I’ll take it myself.
(The Porter goes out.)
Séraphine. Mon chéri, je voudrais une chambre
exposée au soleil.
Gerald. Oui, oui, ma chère.
Séraphine. Je suis très lasse. Comment dit-on? Tired?
Gerald. Oui—yes. Dearest, you must learn to
speak English all the time; we don’t want people
to stare at us.
Séraphine. Oh, but I do not know well how the
English speaks itself.
Gerald. Nonsense, you’re getting along
splendidly.
(Enter Cashier, up-stage right.)
Cashier. How do you do? You’d like a room?
Gerald. Two, if you please.
Cashier. We have two nice rooms on the second
floor.
Gerald. That’s capital!
Cashier. (Turning the register toward Gerald
and handing him a pen) Just sign here, please.
That’s right.
Séraphine. (Looking over Gerald’s shoulder)
Ah, tu es—!
Cashier. Would you mind waiting a moment?
I’ll have the rooms ready presently. (She goes out,
up-stage, right.)
Séraphine. Ah, Mister Parkinson! Mrs.
Parkinson! Que c’est drôle!
Gerald. Certainly; I couldn’t give our real
names. It would be nice to put down “Mr. Gerald
Forsyth and Mlle. Séraphine Chanoine-Malherbe”—especially
as you told me yourself that your
father knew of this hotel, and might come here
and find us—nous surprendre ici.
Séraphine. It is a wicked thing, this that we
have done. I know too, my father, he remember
this hotel, well. He know the name: Hotel Gainsborough:
he has been here before. Ecoute-moi
bien—listen me—to me, dear. I think I have seen
his gray hat.
Gerald. But there are hundreds of gray hats in
London.
Séraphine. But I am sure I have seen the—the—paternal
hat.
Gerald. Nonsense, my dear!
Séraphine. Ah, mon chéri!
Gerald. Don’t say “Mon chéri!”—say “My
dear.”
Séraphine. My dear! Oh, I wish I were safely
married to you. Oh, how wicked to run away like
this!
Gerald. But we had to! It was the only way to
make him consent.
Séraphine. But if your—patron? Employer?
would give you an interest in the business?
Gerald. Yes?
Séraphine. Then Papa would have let me be
married with—to you?
Gerald. Yes, dear, I know. My employer, however,
doesn’t see it in that light. Wait three months,
he says, and then we’ll see. Well, if your Papa
refused, we had to do this. And here we are.
Séraphine. You are right, dear; you always
are.
Gerald. And our elopement is at the expense of
the company.
Séraphine. Bad, bad boy!
Gerald. And now I must leave you for a few
minutes. I must send a telegram to the chief.
Séraphine. And you will leave me all alone?
What if I would wish for anything?
Gerald. Well, you can speak English.
(Enter the Cashier.)
Séraphine. No, no—or only with those who
also speak the French. I’m so afraid!
Gerald. But, there must be an interpreter here—(To
the Cashier) Isn’t there?
Cashier. Of course. He should be here in a
moment. Meantime, the rooms are ready.
Gerald. (To Séraphine) I’ll take you up,
and then run to the office.
(They go out, up-stage right.)
Cashier. (To the Porter, who enters, center)
Why hasn’t our interpreter come yet?
Porter. Oh, Graham? He’s sick, but he’s sent
another fellow in his place. He’s out in the hall
now.
Cashier. Tell him to come in. (The Porter
goes out at the back, and beckons to someone in the
hall. A moment later enter Percy, a respectable
tramp. His clothes are well-worn, but not ragged,
and they fit him rather tightly,—his trousers also are
too short. He has not had a shave for some time.
He tips his hat—an old “derby”—timidly, then
walks slowly to the center of the stage, looking
about uneasily. The Cashier addresses him somewhat
sharply) So you have come to take Mr.
Graham’s place? (Percy nods) You have been
told the conditions, I believe; six shillings a day.
Now understand, we want a good interpreter,
serious and attentive to business. All you have to
do is wait here until any foreigners come, and then
help them. Understand? (Percy again nods)
Good. (The Cashier goes out, up-stage left)
Percy. (To the Porter, after a short pause)
Many foreigners come here?
Porter. Oh, I don’t know! Few French now
and then; depends on the season.
Percy. (A little disturbed) Oh—many foreigners
just now?
Porter. Not so many.
Percy. (A little more at ease) Do you think
any’ll come to-day?
Porter. Can’t say—Here, take your cap. (He
hands Percy a cap with the words “INTERPRÈTE”
written on the front. The Porter then
goes out at the back)
Percy. (Hat in hand, as he reads the inscription)
In-ter-preet. (Puts on the cap) Good!
Hope them blarsted frog-eaters keep away. Don’t
know a single word of French, er German, er
I-talian, er Spanish, er any of them dialects. Good
thing for an interpreter! But I’m no millionaire,
and them six shillin’s! Hm! But I mightily fear
conversation may languish if I meet any o’ them
foreigners.
(Re-enter the Cashier.)
Cashier. I forgot to ask you something a
moment ago: you know there are a great many
interpreters who know all the languages of Europe
and don’t know their mother tongue. You speak
English well, don’t you?
Percy. Perfectly, Madam.
Cashier. Good. I wanted to be quite sure, you
know. You didn’t speak when I was talking to
you.
Percy. Ye can rest quiet on that point, Ma’am.
I speaks English admi-rably.
Cashier. We haven’t many French people at
this season. (The telephone bell rings. The
Cashier runs to the table, center, and takes off the
receiver. A moment later she lays it on the table)
It’s from Paris. (Percy, who is comfortably leaning
against the Cashier’s desk, does not move a
hair. The Cashier goes to him) Someone’s telephoning
from Paris. It’s in French! Are you
deaf? Go to the telephone!
Percy. (Advancing slowly to the table, and
picking up the receiver) Hello? (Lays the receiver
down, and faces the audience in despair)
That’s it; they’re French. (Again listening, and
again laying down the receiver) Don’t understand
a word! (Speaking into the transmitter)
Oui, oui, oui. (He is at his wits’ end)
Cashier. What do they say?
Percy. What do they say? Oh, nothing very
important.
Cashier. People don’t telephone from Paris to
say nothing very important!
Percy. (Again speaking into the telephone)
Oui, oui.—Yes, they’re French, no doubt about it.
They—they want some rooms, and so I said “Oui,
oui.”
Cashier. Well, is that all they say? When?
How much do they want to pay? Ask them, ask
them!
Percy. (Hesitating) They want—four rooms.
Cashier. When?
Percy. For—er—next Thursday.
Cashier. What kind of rooms?
Percy. On the second floor.
Cashier. Tell them we have only two on that
floor at present, but another will be vacant the day
they arrive—on the fifteenth. Or else we could let
them have two first-rate rooms on the third floor,
if they like.
Percy. Do you want me to tell them that?
Cashier. Yes, and hurry. (Percy hesitates)
What are you waiting for?
Percy. (Dumbfounded) Eh?—er—(Listening
at the telephone) Sonfrancaispollyvoogrllgon—Oh!
(He hangs up the receiver) Whew, that’s
over with, thank Heaven!
Cashier. They must be rich—You know it costs
ten shillings every three minutes to telephone from
Paris.
Percy. Ten bob for three minutes? What’s
that come to by the hour?
Cashier. Ten pounds.
Percy. Ten—?!
(Enter Chanoine-Malherbe, center.)
Chanoine-Malherbe. C’est ici l’Hôtel Gainsborough?
Percy. Oui, oui. (He slowly turns round his
hat, hiding the word INTERPRÈTE)
Chanoine-Malherbe. Ya-t-il ici un jeune
monsieur et une jeune demoiselle?
Percy. Oui, oui. (He retreats toward the lower
left door, and disappears)
Chanoine-Malherbe. Qu’est-ce qu’il y a? Où
est l’interprète?
Cashier. What do you wish?
Chanoine-Malherbe. Bonjour, Madame M.
Forsyth, est-il ici?
Cashier. Forsyth?
Chanoine-Malherbe. Oui, Forsyth.
Cashier. No, there’s no one registered here with
that name. No!
Chanoine-Malherbe. Voyons, un jeune
homme et une jeune demoiselle?
Cashier. I can’t understand a word you are
saying. Interpreter! (Enter the Porter) Have
you seen the interpreter?
Porter. He was here a moment ago.
Chanoine-Malherbe. (Taking a pocket-dictionary
from his valise) Commissaire, police—here!
Porter. Wot’s ’e saying?
Cashier. I think he wants to see a police officer.
(Pointing) Just around the corner.
Chanoine-Malherbe. Non,—here!
Cashier. He wants to see the officer here.
Chanoine-Malherbe. Oui, oui—here. (Gives
the Porter a coin)
Porter. Thank you, sir. (Aside) Ten bob!
Cashier. (To Porter) Run around to the
station and get an officer—then the Frenchman can
tell him what he wants.
Porter. But ’e don’t know no English.
Cashier. We have an interpreter, haven’t we?
Run, now.
(The Porter starts to go, but stops when the
Frenchman says to him:)
Chanoine-Malherbe. Je voudrais une chambre.
Cashier. Chambre? Chambre? Oh, I know
what that means: you want a room. Very well,
we’ll give you a “chambre.” (To the Porter)
Here, take this gentleman to number seventeen.
(She gives the Porter a key)
Chanoine-Malherbe. (To Porter) Prenez
donc ma valise.
Porter. Yes, sir.
Chanoine-Malherbe. Saprelotte, ma valise!
Porter. Certainly, sir.
Chanoine-Malherbe. (Pointing to the valise)
La voilà, sot!
Porter. (Taking the valise) Oh, ’is bag!
(The Porter and Chanoine-Malherbe go out,
up-stage left.)
Cashier. Where is that interpreter? (Goes out,
up-stage left)
(Enter Gerald and Séraphine, up-stage right.)
Séraphine. Then you must go? You will not
stay longer?
Gerald. Only to the telegraph office. I’ll be
back at once.
Séraphine. Oh, I am so afraid. I thought I
heard the voice of Papa.
Gerald. Imagination.—I’ll be back in no time.
Séraphine. Good-bye, chéri.
Gerald. Say “Dearest!”
Séraphine. Dearest! (Séraphine goes out up-stage
right, Gerald center.)
(Re-enter Percy, on tip-toe.)
Percy. Nobody here! Half-past ten, and this
has got to last till midnight. (He goes up-stage
and examines the train-schedules) No train from
Paris till seven. Nine hours of peace and quiet.
(He sits down on the stool by the desk and takes a
cigar from his pocket.)
(Re-enter Cashier.)
Cashier. Interpreter, where have you been all
this time?
Percy. All what time?
Cashier. I told you to stay here.
Percy. Well, I—I—I just stepped out—because—I
heard someone crying for help—in Spanish!
Cashier. You stepped out so quickly that you
turned your hat all the way around!
Percy. Yes—yes.
Cashier. Well, are you going to fix it? (Percy
does so) Sit down. (Percy sits down) Now stay
right here. There’s a Frenchman here who doesn’t
understand a word of English. He has sent for a
police officer. I don’t know what he wants.
Percy. Neither do I.
Chanoine-Malherbe. (Outside) Apportez-moi
du vin. Garçon, garçon!
Percy. Listen to it! Whew!
(Enter Chanoine-Malherbe, down-stage left, at
the moment when the Officer appears in the
door center.)
Chanoine-Malherbe. Ce commissaire—?
Ah!
Officer. Well, what is it? Is this the gentleman
who wanted me? Why couldn’t you have called at
the station yourself?
Chanoine-Malherbe. Oui.
Officer. No “Oui” about it. That’s the way
we do things in our country.
Chanoine-Malherbe. Oui.
Officer. I can see you’re a foreigner, only next
time you’ll know what to do.
Chanoine-Malherbe. Oui.
Cashier. He doesn’t understand a word of
English.
Officer. And I don’t understand a word of
French. We’ll get on fine together!
Cashier. (To Percy, who has been trying to
escape) Interpreter!
Percy. (Coming down-stage) Ye-es?
Officer. (To Percy) Find out what he wants?
Chanoine-Malherbe. (To Harry) Ah, M.
l’Interprète!
Percy. Oui, oui.
Chanoine-Malherbe. Dites-lui que je me
nomme Jean-Jacques Chanoine-Malherbe, que je
viens de Paris pour trouver ma fille qui s’en est
allée de chez moi avec un jeune homme, et——
Officer. What’s he say?
Percy. It’s a long story. Very complicated—hm—this
gentleman before you is a—Frenchman.
Officer. I know that!
Percy. He came to London—just—just as
Frenchmen do come to London.
Officer. But why does he need an officer?
Percy. Wait, wait, I must have time to translate.
Chanoine-Malherbe. Dites-lui que——
Percy. Exactly. (To the Officer) Do you
want to know why this Frenchman wants an officer?
Well—he’s been robbed. A pocket-book. Now this
gentleman got off—got off—the express——
Chanoine-Malherbe. Dites-lui——
Percy. Wait! (To Officer) Got off the express
at Victoria, when a mysterious-looking individual
came up—and took his pocket-book.
Chanoine-Malherbe. Très bien!
Percy. Oui, oui. (He tries to get away again,
when Chanoine-Malherbe takes out his pocket-book)
Officer. He’s got two pocket-books!
Percy. Didn’t you know that? All Frenchmen
have two pocket-books.
Chanoine-Malherbe. Voici sa photographie.
Officer. The thief’s photograph?!
Chanoine-Malherbe. Oui, oui.
Officer. These Frenchmen! How did he get
the thief’s picture?
Percy. I forgot to tell you, but the man who
stole the pocket-book was an old acquaintance.
Officer. What name? Ask him.
Percy. The name? Hm—Why his name is—er—Gaston——
Officer. How do you spell it?
Percy. Why do you want me to spell it?—G-e-s-t-n-n——
Officer. How do you pronounce it?
Percy. Gás-ton. (Emphasis on the first syllable)
Officer. Very good. I’ll start an investigation.
Percy. Yes, you’d better go at once. Besides,
this gentleman is rather tired.
Officer. Good-morning, sir. (He goes out,
center)
Chanoine-Malherbe. Qu’est-ce qu’il a dit?—Qu’est-ce
qu’il a dit?
Percy. Oui, oui.
Chanoine-Malherbe. Oui, oui, oui—la paix!
Cashier. What’s he saying?
Percy. Nothing at all.
Cashier. He seems to be disturbed about something.
Percy. We shouldn’t bother him. He says to
let him alone.
Chanoine-Malherbe. Quel mauvais interprète!
Cashier. Now what’s he saying?
Chanoine-Malherbe. (Looking at his dictionary)
Ig-no-rant In-ter-pre-ter!
Cashier. He means “ignorant.” You are an
ignorant interpreter! But I thought——
Percy. No, no, no—Ig-no-rant in French means—Oh,
if you only knew what that meant!
Chanoine-Malherbe. (To Cashier as he goes
out, center) Oh, là, là! Un pareil hôtel, et un
pareil interprète!
Cashier. He is disturbed, isn’t he?
Percy. Not at all, he’s charmed. That’s the way
with the French.
Cashier. Wait a moment. Stay here while I’m
gone. (She goes out, up-stage right)
(Enter Séraphine up-stage right.)
Séraphine. M. l’Interprète!
Percy. (Pretending to have a sore throat) Sore
throat—can’t talk.
Séraphine. Ah, then you cannot speak?
Percy. (Forgetting about his throat) Oh, you
can speak English! Why didn’t you say so at first?
Séraphine. Now you can speak. Eh bien,
parlez——
Percy. (Coughs) Not at all well. It’s a little
better. Don’t mention it.
Séraphine. Ya-t-il un bureau de télégraphes
près d’ici?
Percy. What’s the good of talking French when
you can speak English so well? That’s no way to
learn a language.
Séraphine. I cannot speak well the English.
Percy. All the more reason why you shouldn’t
speak French. I warn you, I refuse to answer when
you speak French.
Séraphine. All right. I tell you—(She catches
sight of her father’s hat on the table) Oh!
Percy. What’s the matter?
Séraphine. Who is that gray hat?
Percy. A Frenchman left it here a moment ago.
Séraphine. (Examining the hat) Oh, c’est le
chapeau de mon père!
Percy. Certainly.
Séraphine. I’m going to my room.
Percy. That’s a good idea.
(Séraphine goes out, up-stage right. Enter
Gerald, center.)
Gerald. Interprète.
Percy. This is getting a bit too warm for me!
(He turns to Gerald with an air of defiance) You
frog-eating beggar——
Gerald. Frog-eater yourself, you blasted bloke
from Clerkenwall——
Percy. (Effusively, to Gerald as he hastens to
shake hands with him) Ah, you speak English!
You know I’m a little shaky on my French, though
of course I know German, Russian, Chinese,
Turkish, Spanish——
Gerald. You know Spanish?—Que hora son?
Percy. (Laughs) Well, I was saying——
Gerald. But I asked you a question. Que hora
son? Well?
Percy. Do you want an immediate answer?
Gerald. How long does it take you to let me
know what time it is?
Percy. Oh, it’s eleven o’clock—that’s easy.
Listen to me: I have a favor to ask you. There’s
a Frenchman here and I don’t understand his
dialect.
Gerald. Where is he?
Percy. We’ll find him. Very good of you to
help me. He must be in the smoking-room now.
Here’s my cap. (He places his cap on Gerald’s
head) Mister! (He calls out through the door
down-stage right) Mister!
Gerald. Say “Monsieur.”
Percy. Mushir, mushir. (To Gerald) I want
to tell him that there’s a good interpreter here.
Gerald. “Un bon interprète.”
Percy. Bone interpreet. Mushir, bone interpreet.
Chanoine-Malherbe. (Outside) Un bon
interprète? Bien! (Enter Chanoine-Malherbe,
down-stage right. Gerald recognizes Séraphine’s
father and pulls his hat over his eyes) Ah, celui-ci?
Je voudrais qu’on me serve mon déjeuner tout
de suite. (Gerald makes his escape) Hein?
Quoi?
Percy. He’s the one, not me! Good-bye.
Chanoine-Malherbe. Seigneur! (He goes
out, down-stage right)
(There come sounds of a scuffle out in the hallway.
Enter Officer followed by another officer who
holds Gerald tight by the collar.)
Officer. Here’s your thief. Just as I was walking
past I saw him, and the minute I looked into his
face I recognized him from the photograph. Bring
the Frenchman here. We’ll show these foreigners
what Scotland Yard can do! And come back yourself,
we’ll need you later.
(Percy goes out, up-stage right.)
Gerald. What do you mean by this? What’s
the charge? You’ll hear from this! Do you know
I’m related to——
Officer. Just keep calm, young fellow. (He
refers to his note-book) Your name is Gas-tnnn—
(Enter Séraphine, up-stage right.)
Séraphine. Oh, dearest, dearest!
Officer. Arrest that woman, she’s an accomplice.
Séraphine. (As the other officer takes her by
the arm) Qu’y-a-t-il?
Gerald. You were right this morning. There’s
the gray hat!
Officer. Silence! No communication between
the prisoners! They may be part of a dangerous
band.
(Enter Chanoine-Malherbe, down-stage right.)
Chanoine-Malherbe. Ma fille, ma fille! (To
the Officer) Mon ami, voici la demoiselle dont
je vous ai parlé tout à l’heure, et——
Officer. All right, all right. But is this the
man who stole your pocket-book?
Chanoine-Malherbe. Oui.
Gerald. Does he say I stole his pocket-book?
(To Chanoine-Malherbe) Vous lui avez dit que
j’ai volé votre portefeuille?
Chanoine-Malherbe. Jamais de la vie!
Gerald. You see, he says he never said anything
of the sort.
Officer. I don’t understand French. Come on
to the station.
Gerald. (To Chanoine-Malherbe) Votre
fille va au commissariat!
Chanoine-Malherbe. Jamais. (Takes Séraphine
by the arm)
(Enter Cashier, up-stage right.)
Cashier. What is the trouble?
Séraphine. But I am his daughter!
Officer. What’s that to me?
(The telephone bell rings. The Cashier takes the
receiver and says:)
Cashier. It’s Paris. They want M. Gerald
Forsyth. (Into the telephone) There’s no one——
Gerald. Here I am!
Cashier. But your name is Parkinson!
Gerald. It’s also Forsyth!
Officer. And also Gas-nnn——
(Gerald goes to the telephone.)
Gerald. Allô! (Pause) It’s my chief in Paris—oui,
oui. (Another pause) It seems he telephoned
here a little while ago and thought he was
connected with a lunatic asylum.—Merci, merci
bien!—He is going to give me an interest in the
business.
Séraphine. Ah, Papa, Papa! Gerald va entrer
dans la Maison!
(Enter Percy.)
Chanoine-Malherbe. C’est vrai? Alors, je
vous donne ma fille! (He goes down-stage. The
Officer starts to conduct the prisoners out)
Officer. You’ll have to come along now.
Percy. Stop, Officer! You don’t understand.
The Frenchman says he has found his pocketbook.
He told me it was all a mistake. (To Chanoine-Malherbe)
Oui, oui?
Chanoine-Malherbe. (Good-naturedly) Oui,
oui, mon ami.
Percy. See there?
Officer. Then there’s nothing more to be done?
(The prisoners are released) You’re free!
CURTAIN.
ith the immensely increased demand for new
plays for purposes of production by amateurs
comes a correspondingly great demand for a careful
selection of those plays which can be easily
and well presented by clubs and colleges. The
plays in the present series have been chosen with
regard to their intrinsic value as drama and literature,
and at the same time to their adaptability to the needs and
limitations of such organizations.