190 
MR TODD 
 
 
EUPHEMIA.  Oh, sir, you distress me—indeed you 
distress me !    
DELHOMME.  I would not brush the bloom from off the 
lily—and yet—  
EUPHEMIA.  My god !—Monsieur Delhomme, I am 
going to shock you.  Oh !  Oh !    
[She buries her face in her hands.  He starts back, 
surprised at the turn things are taking, and at 
the violence of her emotion and of its expression.  
DELHOMME.  What is it !  Are you ill !  Have I——  
EUPHEMIA.  [Steady and straight before him.] I am 
another man’s—his—his mistress.  There !    
[He reels, catches a chair and saves himself.  Her breast 
heaves ;  swallowing a sob, she runs out of the room.  
DELHOMME.  [Utterly dazed].  I—I—oh, my god !  My 
father !  My God !  I thought her—oh, I dare not say it— 
I will not think it.  [On his knees, clutching at the chair.]  
My god, what shall I do !  She was my life, my hope, 
my flower, my star, my sun !  What shall I do !  Help 
me !  help me !  Who shall console me ?  [He continues in 
silent prayer, sobbing].  
[The door opens ;  MR. TODD steals into the room on 
tiptoe, bends over him and whispers in his ear.  
The expression of anguish falls from his face ;  a 
calm steals over him ;  he smiles in beatitude and 
his pips move in rapture.  He rises, shakes TODD 
by the hand ;  they go out together.  
[GRANDFATHER wheeled into the room by THOMAS, 
CHARLEY walking by him.  The servant leaves 
them.