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Page 56
I was too vexed at the moment. [_With downcast eyes._] He professed to
discover that a number of men are in love with me.
MRS. EDEN.
Yes, but what made you angry?
DUCHESS.
Why, _that_.
MRS. EDEN.
That!
DUCHESS.
They were shocking words to listen to, even when spoken by a mere
fortune-teller. And you--why did _you_ not confide to us the result of
Mr. Valma's reading of your palm?
[SOPHY _comes from the bedroom carrying a jewel-case, which she deposits
upon the dressing-table._
MRS. EDEN.
I was in a rage too. Ha! there's only _one_ man in love with _me_, it
appears.
DUCHESS.
[_With a shudder._] One is sufficiently dreadful.
MRS. EDEN.
Horrid! [_Making a_ moue.] It's Jack--my husband!
DUCHESS.
[_Reprovingly._] Hush, dear Mrs. Eden! Sophy--[SOPHY _comes to the_
DUCHESS. _Languidly._] I shall read for half-an-hour before attempting
to sleep. Put me into something loose.
SOPHY.
Yes, your Grace.
[SOPHY _again retires to the bedroom._
MRS. EDEN.
[_Rising._] May I look at your literature?
[MRS. EDEN _goes to the writing-table and turns over the books she finds
there. The_ DUCHESS _glances at the clock, and eyes_ MRS. EDEN _with
impatience._
MRS. EDEN.
"_Le Calvaire d'une vierge_." "_Lune de Miel_." "_Les Aventures de
Madame Plon_." Oh, I've heard of this! this is a little--h'm!--isn't it?
DUCHESS.
I read those things for the sake of their exquisitely polished style;
the subjects escape me.
MRS. EDEN.
[_Seating herself by the writing-table and dipping into_ "_Madame
Plon_."] Ah yes, the style--the style. [_Absorbed._] We haven't much
real literary style in England, have we?
[SOPHY _returns, carrying a pink tea-gown trimmed with green ribbons,
and a richly embroidered Mandarin's robe._
SOPHY.
Will your Grace put on one of these? [_With a curl of the lip._] They're
both very becoming, I should think.
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