covering some object in the shoe._] What is this? [_Producing a
garter of pale-blue silk, with a diamond buckle._] A--a--where--? ah,
yes. [_Replacing the things in the box._] Oh, the poor little objects!
dead, yet animate; silent, yet, oh, how eloquent!

[_She passes him and slips the box into the drawer of the writing-table.
The clock strikes a quarter to twelve._

QUEX.

[_Glancing at the clock._] By Jove, it's late! I--I'll leave you now,
Sidonia.

DUCHESS.

[_Turning._] No, no--not yet, Harry. [_Coming to the table and taking up
the box of cigarettes._] Why, you forget--[_offering him the box_]
Argyropulos!

QUEX.

[_Accepting a cigarette reluctantly._] Thanks. [_Again looking at the
clock._] Well--three minutes.

DUCHESS.

[_Taking a cigarette, replacing the box, and holding the spirit lamp
while he lights his cigarette from it._] You were not always so
impatient. [_In lighting his cigarette, the flame of the lamp is blown
out._] Ah! [_After replacing the lamp, she lights her cigarette from
his, gazing into his eyes._] Argyropulos. [_Dreamily._] Once
more--Argyropulos.

QUEX.

Yes, yes--capital tobacco.

[_He gets away from her._

DUCHESS.

And look! you see, Harry?

QUEX.

[_Turning._] Eh?

DUCHESS.

[_Pointing to the bottle of champagne._] "Felix Poubelle, Carte d'Or"!
[_Taking up the scissors which she has left upon the table._] The wire
is already severed.

[_She commences to cut the string. He comes to her._

QUEX.

[_Taking the scissors from her._] Oh, permit me.

[_Always intent upon avoiding her, he moves away, the bottle in his
hand, cutting the string._

DUCHESS.

[_Following him._] Is it likely to make a loud report?

QUEX.

Hardly.

DUCHESS.

[_Frowning censoriously._] One doesn't want a sound of that sort to ring
through the corridors. [_Looking about her impatiently._] These formal,
frigid rooms!

[_She runs lightly into the bedroom, snatches a pillow from the bed, and
returns to him._

QUEX.

[_His hand upon the cork._] What is that for?

DUCHESS.

[_Enveloping his hand and the bottle in the pillow--calmly._] It is
wiser to muffle it.

[_He pauses, looking at her fixedly._

QUEX.

[_In a low, grave voice._] Dolly--

DUCHESS.

Dolly! [_Closing her eyes._] You give me my pet name again!

QUEX.

Ah, Dolly, if only there wasn't quite so much in one's life--to muffle!
[_He pulls the cork. She tosses the pillow on to the settee, a little
irr