The Globe and Two Worlds Tavern. Enter Icarus.
WAITER A ghost!
ICARUS An absinthe!
WAITER And how is Mademoiselle LN?
ICARUS LU-sive.
WAITER Ah, Monsieur Icarus, we’ve missed you, and I’ll bring you your drink with all celerity.
He actually does so.
Icarus studies a gazette.
WAITER Monsieur Icarus, pardon me for disturbing you in your insipid reading, but there’s a coachman waiting for you. He says you know all about it.
ICARUS I do. I’m off, then!
He pays, stands up and goes out.
COACHMAN (in a falsetto voice) Get in, my prince. A lady awaits you.
ICARUS I know.
He gets in.
COACHMAN Giddy-up, Cocotte! (to the coachman). We’ve got him.
ICARUS So I’m on my way to see a society lady and drink a finger of port wine. On second thoughts, it’s extremely risky. I was living in concealment and I allowed myself to be persuaded to leave my retreat. And in any case, I don’t love the lady, it isn’t out of love that I’m going to see her, that wouldn’t be fair to LN, I’m going out of pure curiosity, I think I’m definitely making a mistake, a big mistake.
Coachman, stop!
(The coachman accelerates).
Yes but, he isn’t slowing down. Coachman, stop!
(The coachman keeps on accelerating, the horse strikes sparks with all four shoes). What a devilish pace! I couldn’t even jump out at this speed! And anyway, where’s he going? What district is he making for? But what do I see? Isn’t this the street M. Lubert lives in? And there’s his house, and there’s his door. Drive on, coachman! Drive on! The beast, he isn’t, he’s stopping.
Icarus jumps down on the pavement and takes wing. Morcol, who had been hanging on behind the fly, jumps off at the same time as Icarus and grabs hold of him. The coachman, who has climbed down from his seat, gives him a helping hand. When he sees that the coachman is none other than Mme de Champvaux, Icarus gives up all resistance.
ICARUS (dejected). What an innocent I was, I never knew that a woman could be such a traitress!
Mme DE CHAMPVAUX And he insults me, the scoundrel!
MORCOL Come on, Monsieur, come on up. M. Lubert’s waiting for you.
Icarus hangs his head, a sign of resignation.
MORCOL (to Mme de Champvaux) Thank you, Madame. M. de Champvaux will never know of his misfortune.
Mme DE CHAMPVAUX Monsieur, you are a gentleman.
MORCOL Let’s go up and put Icarus back between M. Lubert’s pages.