Marquise. Oh, as for grief--! It was your rudeness I deplored, more than my loss. Duc. I am never rude, madame. I may have been---- Marquise. (_Low._) Unfaithful? Duc. (_Low._) Unworthy, madame. (_She looks at him for a moment and sighs. He smiles and is about to speak when a great shout is heard from the direction of the Place Louis Quinze. She starts, turns a little pale, and involuntarily stretches out a hand to him._) Marquise. What’s that? What’s happening? Duc. Oh, they’re excited! In truth, my dear Marquise, I have long wished---- Marquise. No, no--what was the shouting? Duc. Well--er--in fact, I imagine that the first of our friends must have arrived. Marquise. (_Low._) Arrived! (_He smiles, takes her hand and kisses it, then holds out the rouge-box with an air of mockery._) No, no--I won’t. Duc. Why, no! We’ve no need of it. Let me bring the colour to your cheeks. Once on a time I--well, at least I have been there when it came. Ah, it comes now! Listen to me. I have long wished to---- Marquise. To explain? Duc. (_Smiling._) Ah, you were always a little--a little--exacting. No, no; nobody can explain these things. I wished only to---- Marquise. You daren’t apologise! Duc. Ah, and you never were quite just to my good breeding. No again! I wished to tell you frankly that I made a very great mistake. (_A voice from the crowd shouts “To Hell with them!” The_ DUC _laughs_.) The Church’s prerogatives follow the King’s! Ah well! A terrible mistake, Marquise. Marquise. (_Low, but eagerly._) You suspected me of----? Was that why you----? Duc. No. I suspected her. Marquise. Her? But of what? Duc. Of wit, madame, and of charm. I was most unjust. Marquise. (_Smiling._) And not perhaps of one other thing--in which respect you were unjust too? Duc. (_Looking at her a moment and then smiling._) No, no--on my honour I was not refused. Marquise. Oh, not refused! (_She turns away._) Duc. Shall I tell you the reason of that? Marquise. Can’t I--I at least--guess the reason? Duc. You least of all can guess it. I did not ask, Marquise. Marquise. (_Turning quickly to him._) You didn’t----? Duc. On my word, no. You’ll ask me why not? Marquise. Why not, indeed? It was unlike you, monsieur. Duc. I thought of you--and behold, it became impossible. At the moment your image---- (_Another great shout is heard._) Hum, they never get tired of the sight, it seems. (_He glances at the_ MARQUISE, _but she has not noticed the shout. He takes her hand and presses it gently._) Marquise. Is it true? You ought to tell the truth now. Duc. Now? (_Laughs._) Ah, yes! Marquise. Really true? (_She draws her hand away sharply._) Duc. You don’t believe me? Marquise. Yes, I believe you. But--but how stupid you were, monsieur! Duc. Eh? Marquise. How stupid you were, monsieur. Duc. True. (_Takes snuff._) True, by heaven! I was--monstrous stupid. Marquise. To think that you could---- Duc. Love her?