Workingman. Do you think I am taking cold baths for my health? I want to get a medal for life saving.
A Man. You have a chance to get an award from the Carnegie fund for life saving.
Workingman. Don't I know it. I read all about it in "Humanitie" yesterday. Do you think I'd have jumped in the water otherwise?
[A crowd has collected around the Beggar.]
Beggar. O God! O God! I'm soaking wet.
American [cold bloodedly.] Isn't that surprising?
Beggar. I am freezing. I am freezing to death.
Cocotte. Waiter, bring him a glass of brandy and charge it to me. [Waiter exit Right.]
Child [whimpering]. I am freezing too, Mama, I'm cold.
Townswoman. My poor little Phillip. [To her husband.] You never think of bringing a coat for the child. There, my darling, you shall have a cup of hot coffee right away.
Child. Coffee is pfui. I want brandy!
Townsman [sternly]. Brandy is not for children. You'll drink coffee.
Townswoman. Who says brandy is not for children? You get the most foolish ideas in your head. Hush, hush, my baby, you shall have some brandy.
American. They ought to offer a medal for the murder of certain kinds of wives.
Beggar. Oh! [Whimpering.] Oh, what a life I lead! What a life!
A Man [feeding sugar to the dog].
Beggar. I wish I were dead. Why did they pull me out? I want to die. What does life mean to me? What joy is there in life for me?
Artist. There will be less joy for you in death. [Laughter.]
Beggar. If I were only young. If I only had my two strong arms again. I never dreamed I would come to this. I never would have believed it—Forty years ago I was a workingman, yes, forty years until an accident—
Workingman. Were you a Union man, brother?
Beggar. Certainly—certainly. [Guardedly.] That is, I wasn't exactly a Union man but—
Workingman. What! Not a Union man. [Rushes at him.]
Townsman. What do you want to do to that poor man?
Workingman. Throw him back in the river. [He is held back.]
Beggar. Forty years I worked at the machine—and now I have nothing to show for it but diseased lungs.
Townswoman [decisively]. Aristide, we are going home. Tuberculosis is contagious.
Workingman. That's capital for you. The capitalist sucks the workingman dry and then turns him out on the streets to starve. But we, the people, shall have our day. When first the uprising of the masses—
American. Oh, don't make a speech.
Beggar [whining]. And my military medal is gone. I must have lost it in the water. You can still see the saber wound on my arm.
Young Man. Thus the Fatherland repays its valiant sons.
Beggar. Nobody knows what I suffered for France. Twenty years I served in the foreign legion.
American. This fellow ought to be celebrating his two hundredth birthday soon.
Beggar. O God—my poor wife—my poor children—the youngest is just four months old—
Cocotte. Poor soul, here are two francs for you. [Other people take out their purses.]
Beggar. God bless you mademoiselle. [Holds out his hat for the other alms.]
[During the excitement the Beggar passes through the crowd begging and singing.]
Beggar.
The rich man in his banquet hall,
Has everything I long for.
The poor man gets the crumbs that fall,
That's what I sing this song for.
Help a poor man, sir.
American [cries out in sudden alarm.] My dog! My Molly! She has jumped into the river! [The crowd is still and listening to him.] She will drown! [Runs to the edge of the dock.] There she is—swimming. Oh, my Molly! She cost me eighty dollars. [Desperately.] A hundred dollars to the man that saves my dog. A hundred dollars.
A Man. Do you mean that?
American [deaf to everything but his anxiety]. A hundred dollars. Here, I'll put it up with the Waiter—a hundred dollars for my poor dog.
Voices in the Crowd. A hundred dollars! Five hundred francs!
[The Crowd moves, pushing and gesticulating to the water's edge. One by one they jump into the Seine with a great splashing. Only the American, the Young Man, the Cocotte and the Beggar remain.]
American. My poor Molly! She loved me like a son! Where is that pole? [Gets pole and thrusts with it in the water.]
A Voice. Hey! Oh! My head!
American [beside himself]. There—over there—the poor dog never had a swimming lesson. [Sees the Young Man.] What are you standing there for? You with your precious neighborly love! A hundred and fifty dollars for my dog! Jump in! Here is a deposit. [Pushes money in his hand.]
Young Man [makes ready to jump, but stops at the edge and turns around]. No! For a dog? Never!
American. It was a thoroughbred dog. Jump! I'll give you two hundred—I'll take you back to the U. S. A. with me—I'll pay for your musical education—anything—if you save my dog.
Young Man. Will you really pay for my musical education if I save your dog?
American [on knees by wall]. Every instrument there is—piano, piccolo, cornet, bass drum—only jump!—jump!
Young Man [upon wall throws a farewell kiss to the Cocotte, takes a heroic posture]. With God! [Makes a perfect dive into the river.]
American [at the end of the dock, brokenly]. Poor Molly! [Dries his eyes with handkerchief.] I'll endow a home for poor Parisians if she is brought back to me alive. [To the Cocotte.] Oh, dear lady, I don't know whether I shall be able to meet you to-morrow at the Avenue de l'Opera. I have had a bereavement. [Comes down to the pavement.] I must telephone to the lifeguard station. [Exits into the café.] Poor Molly! All the insurance I carried on her is three thousand dollars. [Exit with Artist into café, Right.] [There is a brief pause.]
Beggar [angrily]. Damn his heart; the dog tender! I hope he drowns himself. Just as I was doing the best business in weeks that damn dog had to spoil everything. The scabby beast.
Cocotte. How often have I asked you not to use those vulgar expressions.
Beggar. What! Is that how a daughter should speak to her father? You shameless wench! I'll teach you. I'll be lame again hereafter. For when I am lame I carry a stick and a stick is a good thing to have in your hand to teach a daughter respect. Ten francs; you know for the picture. [While he speaks he is taking off his coat and vest, showing a cork life belt beneath.] That suicide trick is getting played out anyhow—hardly 50 francs—and I had to pay 20 for the place. Come my daughter, we will go home. [Calls.] Waiter—Waiter!
Cocotte. He doesn't hear you, papa—Waiter if you don't come at once we shall go without paying. [The Waiter enters with hat wet.]
Beggar