ST. OLPHERTS. When do we next meet, dear fellow?
LUCAS. No, no--please not again.
[Nella enters, excitedly.]
NELLA [ Speaking over her shoulder.] Si, Signora; ecco il Signore.
(Yes, Signora; her is the Signor.) [To Cleeve.] Scusi, Signore. Quando
la vendra come e cara--! (Pardon, Signor, when you see her you'll see
how sweet she looks--!) [Agnes's voice is heard.]
AGNES. [Outside.] Am I keeping you waiting, Lucas?
[She enters, handsomely gowned, her throat and arms bare, the fashion
of her hair roughly altered. She stops abruptly upon seeing ST.
OLPHERTS; a strange light comes into her eyes; her voice, manner,
bearing, all express triumph. The two men stare at her blankly. She
appears to be a beautiful woman.]
AGNES. [To Nella.] Un petit chale noir tricote--cher-chez-le. [Nella
withdraws.] Ah, you're not dressed, Lucas dear.
LUCAS. What--what time is it? [He goes towards the door, still staring
at AGNES.]
ST. OLPHERTS. [Looking at her, and speaking in an altered tone.] I fear
my gossiping has delayed him. You--you dine out?
AGNES. At the Grunwald. Why don't you join us? [Turning to Lucas,
lightly.] Persuade him, Lucas. [LUCAS pauses at the door.]
ST. OLPHERTS. Er--impossible. Some--friends of mine may arrive
tonight. [Lucas goes out.] I am more than sorry.
AGNES. [Mockingly.] Really? You are sure you are not shy of being seen
with a notorious woman?
ST. OLPHERTS. My dear Mrs. Ebbsmith--!
AGNES. No, I forget--that would be unlike you. Mad people scare you,
perhaps?
ST. OLPHERTS. Ha, ha! Don't be too rough.
AGNES. Come, Duke, confess--isn't there more sanity in me than you
suspected?
ST. OLPHERTS. [In a low voice, eyeing her.] Much more. I think you are
very clever.
[LUCAS quietly re-enters the room; he halts upon seeing that ST.
OLPHERTS still lingers.]
ST. OLPHERTS. [With a wave of the hand to LUCAS.] Just off, dear
fellow. [He offers his hand to AGNES; she quickly places hers behind
her back.] You--you are charming. [He walks to the door, then looks
round at the pair.] Au'voir! [ST. OLPHERTS goes out.]
AGNES. Au'voir! [Her hand drooping suddenly, her voice hard and dull.]
You had better take me to Fulici's before we dine, and buy me some
gloves.
LUCAS. [Coming to her, and seizing her hand.] Agnes dear!
AGNES. [Releasing herself and sitting with a heavy, almost sullen, look
upon her face.] Are you satisfied?