The Magician Soldier

Mrs. Arg. Ah! What martyrdom!
Mr. Arg. You are placing them badly.
Mrs. Arg. Oh! The brute!
Mr. Arg. Double two.

I mark the score and I am moving.
Mrs. Argant, rising.

Mr. Arg. What? You are leaving?
Mrs. Arg. Are you not saying

Mr. Arg. Come, let us start again.
Mrs. Arg. Your cursed game bores me.
Mr. Arg. You never study it.
Madame Argant, excitedly.
Detestable game.
Abominable.
Yes, it is the Devil
Who invented it,
And who dictated
The barbarian words,
The bizarre words
Of Doublets,
Of Bezets,
Of Baudets,
Marjolets;
Ternes, Quarnes, Fichets,
Sonnez, Quinnes, Cornets;
Enfilades, Ambezas,
Coins, Pleins and Everything down.
Your School the failure to move a piece
Dismays me;
Your Bredouille losing without scoring
Confuses me;
The Jan-qui-ne-peut a state where no moves are possible overcomes me,

The Jan-de-rencontre a specific board encounter and three moves.
And I lose myself in the holes.
Go to the Devil,
Detestable game.
Goodbye, goodbye.

Monsieur Argant,
wishing to interrupt.
But, but...
It is a Devil.
Zounds...
Zounds...
It is the Devil
Goodbye, goodbye.
(Madame Argant leaves.)