(_The tumbril is the last of a row of several, some of which have left, some of which stand at, the gates of the Conciergerie. The others are full, in this the_ DUC _is alone. At the beginning of the conversation the tumbril stands still, later it is moving slowly, escorted through a turbulent crowd by National Guards to its destination in the Place Louis Quinze (Place de la Revolution.) The time is noon of a fine day during the Reign of Terror._) Duc. Alone! My luck holds to the last. They’re close as fish in a tub in the others--and by strange chance every man next to his worst enemy--or at least his best friend’s husband! These rascals have no consideration. Ah, somebody coming here! I’ve to have company after all. A woman too--deuce take it! (_A lady is assisted into the tumbril. The_ DUC _rises, bows, and starts._) Marquise! (_The lady sinks on the bench across the tumbril._) You here! (_He takes snuff and murmurs:_) Awkward! (_Pauses and murmurs again:_) Even her! Curse the hounds! Marquise. I--I heard you had escaped. Due. Ah, madame, I can no longer expect justice from you--only mercy. And--excuse me--M. le Marquis? Marquise. He--he has gone-- Duc. Ah yes, yes. He went before us? I remember now. Er--my condolences, Marquise. But on what pretext are you----? Marquise. They say that, as his wife, I shared his designs and was in his confidence. Duc. How little they know of the world! (_Smiling._) As his wife--in his confidence! How simple the blackguards are! (_Looks at her._) I protest I feel my presence inopportune. Marquise. No. (_She holds out a little silver box._) Will you hold this for me? (_He takes it._) You may look. (_Opening it he finds rouge and a powder-puff. The_ MARQUISE _smiles faintly_.) Duc. (_Shutting box._) On my honour you’ve no need of it this morning. Your cheeks display the most charming flush. Ah, we move. (_She starts._) Yes, yes, it jolts horribly. But I won’t drop the rouge. Marquise. Will it take long? Duc. It? (_Shrugs his shoulders._) Oh, before you know--before you know! Marquise. No, no--I mean the journey. Duc. Ah, the journey! It will seem short now. Before you came, I feared the tedium--though the crowd’s amusing enough. Look at that fellow! Why in heaven’s name does he shake his fist at me? He’s not one of my people, not even from my province. (_Smiles at the crowd and seats himself by the_ MARQUISE.) You’re silent. Ah, I remember, now I remember! When we parted last, you vowed you’d never speak to me again. Marquise. I thought I never should. Duc. The things we think we never shall do include all the most delightful things we do. Marquise. You seem to flatter yourself, monsieur. I meant what I said then: but times are changed. Duc. Faith, yes! The times more than I. Marquise. More than you? Ah, changeful times! Duc. And their changes bring more grief than any of mine could.