brushing my hair, my dear boy, I became possessed of a strong desire to
meet the lady with whom you are now improving the shining hour. Why the
devil shouldn't I, if I want to. Without prejudice, as my lawyer says,
let me turn up this afternoon and chat pleasantly to her of
Shakespeare, also the musical glasses. Pray hand her this flag of truce
--I mean my poor bunch of flowers--and believe me yours, with a touch
of gout, ST. OLPHERTS." [Indignantly crushing the note.] Ah!

AGNES. [Frowning at the flowers.] A taste of the oddities, I suppose?

LUCAS. He is simply making sport of us. [Going on to the balcony, and
looking out.] There he is. Damn that smile of his!

AGNES. Where? [She joins him.]

LUCAS. With the two gondoliers.

AGNES. Why--that's a beautiful face! How strange!

LUCAS. [Drawing her back into the room.] Come away. He is looking up at
us.

AGNES. Are you sure he sees us?

LUCAS. He did.

AGNES. He will want an answer--[She deliberately flings the bouquet
over the balcony into the canal, then returns to the table and picks up
her work.]