Marquise. Forget me, monsieur. Alas, I lose all my pride in---- (_Pauses._) Duc. In----? (_Pauses. They smile and she blushes._) Marquise. In any compliments you may have paid me. Duc. (_Softly._) You won’t forgive me? Well, it’s the fashion now! I must die twice to-day? Marquise. Twice--die twice! (_Looks at him and trembles a little._) I--I had almost forgotten what--where we were. (_A fierce shout is heard, sounding nearer now._) Louis, they’ll--they’ll do nothing worse than--kill me? You don’t answer, Louis! Duc. Yes, yes. There’s no fear--no fear of that. Marquise. But you hesitated. Duc. (_Low._) If we must talk of death, pray let it be of mine. (_She glances at him and lays her hand on his for a moment._) Yours seems too--too---- (_Smiles._) I want a word. Well, too incongruous, dear Marquise. Marquise. I have confessed--and forgiven all my enemies. Duc. Am I your enemy? Have you no forgiveness left for friends? (_She looks at him gravely for a moment, then smiles reluctantly._) Why, we were growing grave! That would be a bad ending. Marquise. The most seemly ending! Duc. For me? Oh, oh, Marquise! They’d think they’d got hold of the wrong man. Your hand’s a trifle cold. Marquise. (_Laughing nervously._) Well, if it is? We’ve stopped again! Are we near now? Duc. At the entrance of the _Place_, I believe. (_Looks at her and goes on quickly._) You and I have walked here together before now. You remember? Alone together--so often. (_Rises._) Forgive me--as you face towards the _Place_ the sun is in your eyes. Pray sit the other way. It’s pleasanter to look towards the river--cooler to the eye. You remember our walks, dear Marquise? Marquise. You still look towards the _Place_, though. Duc. (_Laughing._) Why yes! I can’t have the dogs saying I daren’t---- Marquise. Are they to say it of me then, monsieur? (_She rises and stands by him, looking towards the Place, where the scaffold is now visible._) Duc. (_Removing his hat and bowing humbly._) I beg your pardon. Marquise. (_Very low._) Dear Louis, dear Louis! Duc. I thought life done. I was wrong a thousand times! Marquise. I cried when you---- Duc. Ah, if I beg them to torture me---- Would that atone? Marquise. They found me crying. Think of the humiliation! Duc. Oh, I must have a talk with a priest--after all I must! (_She turns away with a sob and then a gasping laugh._) Ay, that’s life, dearest Marquise--and perhaps it’s the other thing too. Marquise. I care less now, Louis. Duc. Give me your hand a minute. Yes, it’s warmer now. And the rouge--why, madame, I swear the rouge is utterly superfluous! Shall we throw it to the mob? It’s their favourite colour. I’ll leave it in the cart--when they turn on one another, some hero may be glad of it. Margot, dear Margot, are you cold? I thought you shivered as your arm touched mine. Marquise. (_Low._) No. I’m--I’m just a little afraid, Louis.