JAMES. I'll come back later. [_Goes towards the hall._

FREDERIK. Catherine, have you asked James to be present at the ceremony
to-morrow?

CATHERINE. No.

FREDERIK. James, will you--

JAMES. I shall be leaving early in the morning.

FREDERIK. Too bad! [_Exit_ JAMES.

FREDERIK _lights the desk candles, takes the mail out of the drawer--opens
two letters--tears them up after barely glancing at them--then sees_
CATHERINE _still standing at the foot of the stairs--her back to him. He
lays the cigar on the desk, crosses, and, taking her in his arms, kisses
her._

CATHERINE. [_With a revulsion of feeling._] No! No! No! [_She covers her
face with her hands--trying to control herself._] Please!... Not now....

FREDERIK. Why not _now_? [_Suspiciously._] Has Hartman been talking to
you? What has he been saying to you? [CATHERINE _starts slowly up the
stairs._] Wait a moment, please.... [_As she retreats a step up the
stairs, he follows her._] Do you really imagine you--you care for that
fellow?

CATHERINE. Don't--please.