DUCHESS.

[_Enveloping his hand and the bottle in the pillow--calmly._] It is
wiser to muffle it.

[_He pauses, looking at her fixedly._

QUEX.

[_In a low, grave voice._] Dolly--

DUCHESS.

Dolly! [_Closing her eyes._] You give me my pet name again!

QUEX.

Ah, Dolly, if only there wasn't quite so much in one's life--to muffle!
[_He pulls the cork. She tosses the pillow on to the settee, a little
irritably._] May I--?

[_She inclines her head. He pours wine into the glasses; she takes the
champagne glass, he the tumbler._

DUCHESS.

[_Sentimentally._] Félix Poubelle, Carte d'Or! [_Looking at him over the
brim of her glass._] _Eh bien! au joyeux passé!_

QUEX.