FORTUNE. I beg your pardon, sir.

LUCAS. Well?

FORTUNE. It is pas' ze time for you to dress for dinner.

LUCAS. I'll come. [FORTUNE goes out.]

ST. OLPHERTS. When do we next meet, dear fellow?

LUCAS. No, no--please not again.

[Nella enters, excitedly.]

NELLA [ Speaking over her shoulder.] Si, Signora; ecco il Signore.
(Yes, Signora; her is the Signor.) [To Cleeve.] Scusi, Signore. Quando
la vendra come e cara--! (Pardon, Signor, when you see her you'll see
how sweet she looks--!) [Agnes's voice is heard.]

AGNES. [Outside.] Am I keeping you waiting, Lucas?

[She enters, handsomely gowned, her throat and arms bare, the fashion
of her hair roughly altered. She stops abruptly upon seeing ST.
OLPHERTS; a strange light comes into her eyes; her voice, manner,
bearing, all express triumph. The two men stare at her blankly. She
appears to be a beautiful woman.]

AGNES. [To Nella.] Un petit chale noir tricote--cher-chez-le. [Nella
withdraws.] Ah, you're not dressed, Lucas dear.