(PAUL _and_ JEANNE _re-enter, and_ BELLAC _and_ LUCY _conceal themselves, right_. JEANNE _is behind_ PAUL, _holding him back_.) JEANNE. (_To_ PAUL) No, no, Paul, no! PAUL. Yes, yes! Let me go a second! I want to see! Nobody could be here but lovers, at this hour;—and yet, in this house! No, that would be too much! JEANNE. Take care! PAUL. Shhh! LUCY. Are you there, Monsieur Bellac? PAUL. The English girl! BELLAC. Yes, Mademoiselle! PAUL. And the Professor—the English girl and the Professor! It’s impossible! Scandal! Would you believe it! An intrigue—a rendezvous! We’ll stay right here and see what happens! JEANNE. What? PAUL. After this, you don’t mean to say you want to go? JEANNE. Oh, no! (_They hide themselves behind the plants, at the back, left_) LUCY. Are you on this side? BELLAC. Here!—I beg your pardon! The conservatory is usually better lighted—I don’t know why, this evening—(_He walks toward her_) MME. DE CÉRAN. (_Aside to the_ DUCHESS) Lucy!—But what about Suzanne? I’m sure I can’t make it out! DUCHESS. Wait a while; we’ll soon see. LUCY. But, M. Bellac, what do you mean by this? And your letter this morning? Why did you write me? BELLAC. Because I wanted to talk with you, my dear Miss Lucy. Is this the first time we have left the others and talked, and exchanged ideas? PAUL. (_Struggling to control his laughter_) Oh, exchange ideas! I never heard it called that before! BELLAC. Surrounded as I am here, what other means had I of speaking with you, alone? LUCY. What other means? You might simply offer me your arm and leave the room with me. I’m no French girl! BELLAC. But you are in France. LUCY. I may be in France, but I still do as I please. I have no use for secrets, much less such mysteries as this! You disguise your handwriting, you did not sign your name, you even wrote on pink paper—how French you are! PAUL. (_Aside to_ JEANNE) He’s a born villain! BELLAC. How wonderful you are, austere Muse of Knowledge, superb Polymnia, proud nymph of the cold Pierian Spring—please sit down! LUCY. No, no! Now see what all your precautions have come to; I have lost that letter! DUCHESS. (_Rather loudly_) I see! (LUCY _starts_.) BELLAC. What is it? LUCY. Didn’t you hear——? BELLAC. No.—You say you lost——? LUCY. What do you suppose the finder of that letter will think? DUCHESS. (_Aside to_ MME. DE CÉRAN) Now do you understand? LUCY. Of course; there was no envelope or address—— BELLAC. Nor my handwriting, nor my signature. You see I wasn’t so stupid after all! In any case, my intentions were good, my dear Miss Lucy. Forgive your Professor, your friend, and—and—Sit down, please! LUCY. No! Tell me what you have to tell me with so much secrecy, and we’ll return to the drawing-room! BELLAC. (_Detaining her_) Wait! Why didn’t you come to my lecture this afternoon? LUCY. Simply because I spent my time looking for that letter. What have you to say to me now?