Lucas.  Yes?

Agnes. [Turning from him.] If only it could be free from passion!

Lucas. [In a low voice.] Yes, but—­is that possible?

Agnes. [In the same tone, watching him askance, a frightened look in her eyes.] Why not?

Lucas.  Young man and woman . . . you and love . . . ?  Scarcely upon this earth, my dear Agnes, such a life as you have pictured.

Agnes.  I say it can be, it can be—!

[Fortune enters, carrying a letter upon a salver, and a beautiful bouquet of white flowers.  He hands the note to Lucas.]

Lucas. [Taking the note, glancing at Agnes.] Eh! [To fortune, pointing to the bouquet.] Qu’avez-vous la?

Fortune.  Ah, excuse. [Presenting the bouquet to Agnes.] Wiz compliment. [Agnes takes the bouquet wonderingly.] Tell Madame ze Duke of St Olphert bring it in person, ’e says.

Lucas. [Opening the note.] Est-il parti?

Fortune.  ’E did not get out of ’is gondola.

Lucas.  Bien. [Fortune withdraws.  Reading the note aloud.] “While 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.]

Lucas. [Looking out again cautiously.] He throws his head back and laughs heartily. [Re-entering the room.] Oh, of course, his policy is to attempt to laugh me out of my resolves.  They send him here merely to laugh at me, Agnes, to laugh at me—­[coming to Agnes angrily.] laugh at me!

Agnes.  He must be a man of small resources. [Threading her needle.] It is so easy to mock.

END OF THE FIRST ACT

THE SECOND ACT