[_Sitting upright and passing her hand over her back hair._] Were there
a fire, we could crouch over it and watch the flames consume them one by
one.

QUEX.

But there isn't a fire.

DUCHESS.

[_Rising, and taking the box from him._] Let us examine them.

QUEX.

No, no, no.

DUCHESS.

Yes, yes. [_Opening the box and gazing into it._] Ah, poor little
objects! dead, yet animate; silent, yet, oh, how eloquent! Don't go
away--[_She overturns the contents of the box on to the table. They
stand opposite each other, looking down upon the litter. She picks up a
ring._] A ring--[_thoughtfully_] turquoise and pearl. [_Recollecting._]
Stockholm! You remember--that night you and I sat watching the lights of
the café on the Norrbro--!

QUEX.

[_Hastily._] Yes, yes; you've recalled it already to-day.