ROGER. In her notebook. DUCHESS. But look here—— ROGER. May I——? THE LADIES. (_Outside_) What a lovely lesson! Magnificent! DUCHESS. There’s the beautiful object! Surrounded by his bodyguard! (_Enter_ BELLAC, MADAME ARRIÉGO, MADAME DE LOUDAN, MADAME DE SAINT-RÉAULT, MADAME DE CÉRAN, _and_ LUCY.) MME. DE SAINT-RÉAULT. Superb! Simply superb! BELLAC. Oh, spare me, Madame de Saint-Réault! MME. DE LOUDAN. Ideal! I call it ideal! BELLAC. Marquise! MME. ARRIÉGO. Beautiful! It stirred me to the depths of my being! BELLAC. Oh, Madame Arriégo! MME. DE LOUDAN. Ladies, there is only one thing to say about it all! M. Bellac was so eloquent that he was positively dangerous! But then—isn’t he always a little dangerous? BELLAC. Please, Madame de Loudan! MME. DE LOUDAN. I’m simply mad about your genius! Yes, indeed, mad! And about you, too! Oh, I don’t hide it. I tell everyone about it! Brazenly! You are one of the gods on my Olympus! You have become a fetish to me! MME. ARRIÉGO. You know, I have his autograph in my pocket! (_Displays locket_) There! MME. DE LOUDAN. (_Shows a pen which she carries in the bosom of her gown_) And I carry one of his pens! DUCHESS. (_Aside to_ ROGER) Silly sheep! MME. DE LOUDAN. (_To_ MME. DE CÉRAN) Ah, Countess, I didn’t see you at the lecture to-day? MME. DE CÉRAN. (_Introducing_ ROGER) Here is my excuse! Ladies, my son! LADIES. Ah, Count! MME. DE LOUDAN. The exile has returned! ROGER. (_Bowing_) Ladies! MME. DE CÉRAN. (_Introduces_ BELLAC _to her son_) Monsieur Bellac—Count Roger de Céran! MME. DE LOUDAN. I see that your excuse was a good one—but Lucy? LUCY. I was busy here. MME. DE LOUDAN. How could _you_ stay away, his Muse? BELLAC. (_Gallantly_) Ah, Marquise, I can only say that _you_ were there! MME. DE LOUDAN. He is charming! (_To_ LUCY) You don’t know what you missed. LUCY. Oh, I know—— MME. ARRIÉGO. No, she can have no idea! It was a burning flame, a fire of passion! MME. DE LOUDAN. What flowing eloquence! What delicacy of imagination! BELLAC. With such an audience, who could not be eloquent? DUCHESS. And what was the subject to-day? LADIES. LOVE! DUCHESS. (_To_ ROGER) Of course! MME. ARRIÉGO. So poetic! MME. DE LOUDAN. And so scientific! He is half psychologist, half dreamer; he plays with the scalpel as well as the lyre! It was—there was only one thing I couldn’t agree with: that the basis of love is instinct. BELLAC. But, Marquise, I was speaking of—— MME. DE LOUDAN. Oh, no, no! BELLAC. I was speaking of love in Nature! MME. DE LOUDAN. Instinct! The idea! Ladies, come, we must defend ourselves! Help me. Come to the rescue, Lucy! BELLAC. She will not help you, Marquise; she agrees with me. MME. DE SAINT-RÉAULT. Is it possible, Lucy? LUCY. Instinct? MME. DE SAINT-RÉAULT. In love? MME. DE LOUDAN. That would be robbing the soul of its most precious possession: according to you, then, Lucy, nothing is good, or bad.