o non ha caoito la Signora
e ha tagliata la corda. (The stupid fellow misunderstood the Signora,
and has severed the cord.)

AGNES. [Rising.] It doesn't matter. Be quiet!

NELLA. [Removing the lid from the box angrily.] Ed ecco la scatola
aperta contro voglia della Signora! (And now here is the box open
against the Signora's wish) [Inquisitively pushing aside the paper
which covers the contents of the box.] O Dio! Si vede tutto quel che vi
e! (O God! And all the contents exposed!) [When the paper is removed,
some beautiful material trimmed with lace, &c., is seen.]

NELLA. Guardi, guardi, Signora! (Signora, look, look!) [AGNES examines
the contents of the box with a puzzled air.] Oh, che bellezza! (How
beautiful!)

ANTONIO. [To NELLA.] Il padrone. (The master.) [NELLA curtsies to
LUCAS, then withdraws with ANTONIO.]

AGNES. Lucas, the dressmaker in the Via Rondinelli at Florence--the
woman who ran up the little gown I have on now--

LUCAS. [With a smile] What of her?

AGNES. This has just come from her. Phuh! What does she mean by sending
that showy thing to me?

LUCAS. It is my gift to you.

AGNES. [Producing enough of the contents of the box to reveal a very
handsome dress.] This!

LUCAS. I knew Bardini had your measurements; I wrote to her,
instructing her to make that. I remember Lady Heytesbury in something
similar last season.

AGNES. [Examining the dress.] A mere strap for the sleeve, and
sufficiently decolletee, I should imagine.

LUCAS. My dear Agnes, I can't understand your reason fro trying to make
yourself a plain-looking woman when nature intended you for a pretty
one.

AGNES. Pretty!

LUCAS. [Looking hard at her.] You are pretty.

AGNES. Oh, as a girl I may have been--[disdainfully]--pretty. What
good did it do anybody? [Fingering the dress with aversion.] And when
would you have me hang this on my bones?

LUCAS. Oh, when we are dining, or--

AGNES. Dining in a public place?

LUCAS. Why not look your best in a public place?

AGNES. Look my best? You know, I don't think of this sort of garment in
connection with our companionship, Lucas.

LUCAS. It is not an extraordinary garment for a lady.

AGNES. Rustle of silk, glare of arms and throat--they belong, to my
mind, to such a very different order of things from that we have set
up.

LUCAS. Shall I appear before you in ill-made clothes, clumsy boots--

AGNES. Why? We are just as we have always been, since we've been
together.