QUEX.

My dear Sidonia--!

DUCHESS.

[_Decidedly._] I say I cannot!

QUEX.

[_To himself, with a little groan._] Oh! phew!

[_He walks to and fro impatiently, reflecting._ SOPHY, _without her hat,
comes quickly down the steps as if making for the table. Seeing_ QUEX
_and the_ DUCHESS, _she draws back, inquisitively._

QUEX.

[_By the_ DUCHESS'S _side again, helplessly._] Well, I--ha!--I--

DUCHESS.

[_Rising eagerly, laying a hand upon his arm._] You _will_?

[SOPHY _stoops down behind the dwarf cypress-hedge._

QUEX.

You are certain--certain that this would effectually remove the
obstacle to your rejoining--[_with a wave of the hand_] on Friday?