JEANNE. And it’s just horrid of her! Yes, she does it on purpose! A woman knows very well that new-married people always—have things to say to each other. PAUL. (_Tenderly_) Yes, always! JEANNE. Always? Really?—Always like this? PAUL. What a sweet voice you have! I heard it a little while ago—talking about the treaties of 1815! Soft, sweet, all-enveloping. Ah, the voice is the music of the heart—as Monsieur de Tocqueville says! JEANNE. Oh, Paul! I don’t like you to laugh at such serious things! PAUL. Oh, let me be a little nonsensical, please, dear! I’m so happy here! By Jove, just now I don’t care a rap whether I’m Prefect of Carcassonne or not! JEANNE. It’s always “just now” with me, Monsieur! That’s the difference! PAUL. Dear little wife! (_He kisses her hands_) MME. DE CÉRAN. But such impropriety, I nev— DUCHESS. I can’t say that I object to that! PAUL. I have a lot of back accounts to settle before I even begin to collect for the present! When can we get away? Dear little girl, you don’t know how I adore you! JEANNE. Yes, I know—I can judge for myself! PAUL. My Jeanne! JEANNE. Oh, Paul, say it like that always! Always! PAUL. Always! (_Close to her, and very tenderly_) MME. DE CÉRAN. But, Duchess!! DUCHESS. Oh! They’re married, aren’t they! (_The door squeaks_; PAUL _and_ JEANNE _spring up, startled_.) JEANNE _and_ PAUL. Eh? JEANNE. Somebody’s coming! PAUL. We must flee—as they say in the tragedy! JEANNE. Quick! Quick! PAUL. You see? My little invention! JEANNE. So soon! What luck! (_They go out, right_) MME. DE CÉRAN. (_Going left_) Well, it is a fortunate thing that they were interrupted. DUCHESS. (_Following her_) I’m sorry they went—but the funny part is over now! (BELLAC _enters right, at the back_; MADAME DE CÉRAN _and the_ DUCHESS _hide themselves, left_.) BELLAC. What a noise that door makes! MME. DE CÉRAN. (_To the_ DUCHESS, _as before_) Bellac! DUCHESS. Bellac! BELLAC. One can’t see very well here! MME. DE CÉRAN. You see, it’s true!—Everything is true! DUCHESS. Everything? No!—Only a little bit. MME. DE CÉRAN. The rest is far away. DUCHESS. In any case, it’s only a lark, a schoolgirl’s frolic! It can’t be that—(_The door squeaks_) There she is! Oh, my, how my heart beats! In cases like this, it’s better to be sure; one can never tell. Can you see her? MME. DE CÉRAN. (_Peering out_) Yes, it’s she; Roger will be here in a moment, on the lookout for them. Hadn’t we better show ourselves, Duchess? DUCHESS. No, no. I want to see where they stand. I want to catch them red-handed. MME. DE CÉRAN. (_Still looking_) I’m dying of suspense—_Décolletée_—It’s certainly she. DUCHESS. Oh, the little coquette! Let me see! (_She looks through the leaves_) What’s that? MME. DE CÉRAN. What? DUCHESS. Look! MME. DE CÉRAN. Lucy! DUCHESS. Lucy! MME. DE CÉRAN. What does that mean? DUCHESS. I don’t know, but I like that better!