He'll understand that happiness is to be found here, in family life, and God will do the rest.

Eva: Let's hope so, grandma, let's hope so.

Mme de Traventhal: But it's important to me that he should never know who his parents were.

Eva: The son of Captain Hatteras,4 the bold explorer who reached the North Pole, and came back only to end his days in a mental hospital. Oh, you're right! George must never know! His mind is already overwrought, and that knowledge might prove fatal to him.

Mme de Traventhal: Where is he now, the poor boy? What kind of a night did he have?

Eva: Still very restless. Our old friend Niels told me he paced up and down in his room for a long time, muttering incoherently. Everything in his mind is expressed in the words: "Onward! Farther still!" What can be done? Couldn't we consult a doctor?

Mme de Traventhal: I've thought of that. But just to make sure George won't know we're worried about him, the doctor will come to see me.

Eva: To see you?

Mme de Traventhal: Yes, I'm expecting him this morning. I asked that nice Mr. Tartelets to call him.

Eva: Mr. Tartelet?

Mme de Traventhal: He seemed so happy to be able to do a favor for us.

Eva: Yes, he's a fine man. When he came here from Paris he had no letters of recommendation and no money. He said he was a dancing teacher.

Mme de Traventhal: A teacher of dancing and deportment, he said.

Eva: You made him welcome. In fact, you gave him a home, and since no one here has any interest in dancing....

Mme de Traventhal: He stayed with us as a friend.

Eva: But a very worried friend, grandma, very tormented.

Mme de Traventhal: Why so?

Eva: It upsets his sensitive nature to be paid a salary when no one comes to his classes.

Mme de Traventhal: Good! But he's almost one of the family now, isn't he?

(Enter Tartelet by a side door; carrying his violin under his arm)

Tartelet: Here I am, ladies.

Mme de Traventhal: Ah! Mr. Tartelet. Well?

Tartelet: The famous doctor will be here in a moment.

Mme de Traventhal: Many thanks, Mr. Tartelet.

Tartelet: Will there be anything else, ma'am?

Mme de Traventhal (surprised): Anything else? What do you mean?

Tartelet: Is there any other little thing you might want me to do?

Eva: Want you to do, Mr. Tartelet?

Tartelet: Yes, miss, yes. You mustn't think that all I can do is dance entrechats and scrape the violin. An old bachelor like me, forced to fend for himself, has to know how to do many little odd jobs. I can repair damaged furniture, mend valuable porcelain, sew on buttons. If need be, I can even do a little laundry.

Eva (laughing): You do laundry, Mr. Tartelet?

Tartelet: Yes, miss, but unfortunately, I know nothing about ironing.

Mm de Traventhal: Set your mind at rest, my dear Mr. Tartelet. We feel your affection for us ... and ... (holding out her hand) and that's enough for us.

Tartelet: That's enough for you.... It's enough for you, ma'am, but not enough for me. Every morning I arrive on time for my lesson, but-I never teach my lesson. And you still pay me.

Eva: Well, what if I don't feel like having a lesson?

Tartelet: In that case, miss, I ought not to feel like accepting a fee for it. For six months now I've been living in this castle. At the rate of one lesson a day, that makes one hundred and eighty lessons that I haven't taught. At two crowns a lesson, it adds up to a total of three hundred and sixty crowns that I've received, and which I now have the honor, ma'am, of returning to you.