[_Her eyes flashing scornfully._] You see, your Grace, if a woman is pretty, and Valma finds Venus's girdle well marked in her palm; and if he concludes from other signs that she's vain and light and loose; it isn't much to suppose that there are a few horrid men licking their lips at the thought of her. DUCHESS. [_Shocked._] My good girl! what curious expressions you make use of! [_Resuming her reading._] That's all. [SOPHY _goes to the door and opens it._ SOPHY. I wish your Grace good-night. DUCHESS. [_Raising her head for a moment._] Good-night. You are not taking your robe. [SOPHY _looks at the robe and hesitates; in the end she gathers it up uneasily._ SOPHY. I--I am very much obliged to your Grace-- DUCHESS. Yes, you have thanked me enough. Turn out the lamp in that passage. SOPHY. Certainly, your Grace. [SOPHY _disappears, shutting the door after her. The_ DUCHESS _remains quite still for a moment, then rises promptly, replaces her book, and--seating herself at the dressing-table--puts her hair in order. This done, she takes up the hand-mirror and smiles, frowns, and looks caressingly at herself. Then she lays the hand-mirror aside, blows out the candles upon the dressing-table, and poses before the cheval-glass. Ultimately, completely assured as to her appearance, she cautiously opens the door at which_ SOPHY _has departed, and, going a few steps along the passage, listens with strained ears. The passage is now in darkness. Apparently satisfied, the_ DUCHESS _returns, and, closing the door gently, turns the key in the lock. Her next proceeding is to attempt to tear one of the ribbons from her tea-gown. Failing in this, she detaches it with the aid of a pair of scissors, and, opening the door leading from the corridor, ties the ribbon to the outer door-handle. Whereupon she closes the door and walks about the room contentedly. Suddenly she pauses, and, going to the cabinet, produces a small tray on which are a bottle of champagne and a champagne glass. Placing the tray on the circular table, she regards the single glass thoughtfully. Then, as if struck by an idea, she disappears into the bedroom. After a brief interval, the door opens softly and_ QUEX _enters, carrying a lighted wax match. Being in, he shuts the door silently and looks about the room. Hearing the_ DUCHESS _in the adjoining apartment, he frowns and blows out the match. Coming to the circular table, he contemplates the preparation for his reception with distaste; then, flinging the match into the ash-tray, he sits, with a set, determined look upon his face. After another short pause, the_ DUCHESS _returns, polishing a tumbler with a cambric handkerchief._ QUEX _rises._ DUCHESS.