(TOULONNIER _comes down-stage, surrounded by the company_.) MME. DE CÉRAN. My dear Secretary General! SAINT-RÉAULT. My dear Toulonnier! MME. DE CÉRAN. Well, the telegram——? BELLAC. It’s about poor Revel, is it not? TOULONNIER. (_Embarrassed_) Yes, about Revel. BELLAC. Well, what about him? DUCHESS. (_Looking at_ TOULONNIER) It says he isn’t dead! MME. DE CÉRAN, BELLAC, _and_ SAINT-RÉAULT. (_Showing the papers_) But the papers! DUCHESS. They’re mistaken! ALL. Oh! DUCHESS. For once! (_To_ TOULONNIER) Aren’t they? TOULONNIER. Well, he’s not exactly dead! SAINT-RÉAULT. (_Sinking into a chair_) Yet? DUCHESS. And I’ll warrant he’s received another appointment! TOULONNIER. Commander of the Legion of Honor. SAINT-RÉAULT. Again! TOULONNIER. (_Showing his telegram_) It will appear in to-morrow’s Official! (_To_ SAINT-RÉAULT, _sympathetically_) Believe me, I feel deeply——! DUCHESS. (_Aside, looking at_ TOULONNIER) He knew it before he came this evening! He’s a good one—I too have some important news to announce! ALL. (_Turning toward the_ DUCHESS) Ahh! DUCHESS. Two things! LUCY. What? MME. DE LOUDAN. What, Duchess? BELLAC. What? DUCHESS. First, the engagement of our friend, Miss Lucy Watson, to Professor Bellac! ALL. Bellac? What!! BELLAC. (_Aside_) Duchess! DUCHESS. Ah! You must make some reparation. BELLAC. Rep—— Oh! With pleasure! Ah, Lucy! LUCY. (_Astonished_) Why, Madame! DUCHESS. (_Aside_) Reparation, my child! LUCY. None is necessary, because there is nothing to repair! However, my ideas and my inclinations are in perfect harmony. (_She gives her hand to_ BELLAC) BELLAC. Ah, Lucy! DUCHESS. Good! Number one! MME. DE LOUDAN. You are the happiest of women, Lucy! DUCHESS. Second piece of news! MME. DE LOUDAN. Another engagement? DUCHESS. Yes. MME. DE LOUDAN. It’s a regular festival! DUCHESS. The engagement of my dear nephew, Roger de Céran—— MME. DE CÉRAN. Duchess! DUCHESS. To a girl who is very dear to my heart—— MME. DE CÉRAN. Oh, Aunt! DUCHESS. My sole heir—— MME. DE CÉRAN. Your——? DUCHESS. My fortune and my family name will be hers! My adopted daughter, Mademoiselle Suzanne de Villiers de Réville. SUZANNE. (_Throwing herself into the_ DUCHESS’S _arms_) Oh, my mother! MME. DE CÉRAN. But, Duchess! DUCHESS. Find a richer and a nobler name! MME. DE CÉRAN. Oh, I’m not saying—and yet—(_To_ ROGER) Consider, Roger—— ROGER. I love her, mother. DUCHESS. (_Looking about her_) Number two! There remains—(_To_ PAUL) Come here, will you? What reparation are you going to make? PAUL. (_Ashamed_) Ah, Duchess, it was you, then? JEANNE. (_Confused_) Ah, Madame, then you heard——? DUCHESS. Yes, little trickster, I did. PAUL. Oh! DUCHESS. But, since you didn’t say too much evil of me, I’ll forgive you. You’ll be Prefect—— PAUL. Oh, Duchess! (_He kisses her hand_) JEANNE. Ah, Madame—! “Gratitude,” as Saint-Evremont says—— PAUL. What’s the use—now? _Curtain._