The Gay Lord Quex eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 116 pages of information about The Gay Lord Quex.

The Gay Lord Quex eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 116 pages of information about The Gay Lord Quex.

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

DUCHESS.

[Sentimentally.] Felix Poubelle, Carte d’Or! [Looking at him over the brim of her glass.] Eh bien! au joyeux passe!

QUEX.

Non, non—­a un avenir meilleur!

DUCHESS.

Que vous etes prosaique! soit! [They drink.  She sits, with a sigh of dissatisfaction.] Ah!

QUEX.

[Leaning against the table, drinking his wine.] Wonderful wine—­really exceptional. [Struck by a thought, turning to her.] Forgive me—­you must have found some difficulty in introducing Monsieur Felix Poubelle into this hallowed apartment.

DUCHESS.

No. [Sipping her wine.] My maid thinks it is by my doctor’s orders.

QUEX.

Your maid, yes—­[sipping his wine; then sitting upon the settee, glass in hand] but my poor aunt must be highly scandalised.

DUCHESS.

[Her glass at her lips.] Dear Lady Owbridge will not know.  I told the girl to coax it out of the butler, as if it were for herself.  These women have a way of doing such things.

QUEX.

[Laughing rather sadly.] Ha, ha, ha! who is beyond temptation?  Not even old Bristow—­sixty if he’s a day.

DUCHESS.

[Shrugging her shoulders.] Sixty or sixteen—­when a girl is fascinating—­

QUEX.

Fascinating! your woman, Watson!

DUCHESS.

No, no—­Watson has left me for a few hours.  I am speaking of Sophy.

[There is a brief silence. QUEX, surprised in the act of drinking, lowers his glass slowly.

QUEX.

[In a queer voice.] Sophy?

DUCHESS.

Miss Fullgarney, the manicurist.  She was so good as to offer to take
Watson’s place for to-night.

QUEX.

[Looking steadily before him.] Oh?

[There is another pause.  The DUCHESS puts down her glass and, with her foot, pushes the footstool towards QUEX.

DUCHESS.

[Sliding from her chair on to the footstool.] Oh, Harry, the bitterness of this final meeting! the dull agony of it!

[He gets rid of his tumbler and touches her arm.

QUEX.

[Quietly.] Duchess—­

DUCHESS.

[Surprised.] Eh?

QUEX.

I am sorry to alarm you, but this girl—­Miss Eden’s foster-sister—­

DUCHESS.

What about her?

QUEX.

She’s a cat.

DUCHESS.

Cat!

QUEX.

[Gathering his ideas as he proceeds.] A common hussy, not above playing tricks—­spying—­

DUCHESS.

Spying!

QUEX.

I caught her behind the hedge this evening, in the Italian garden, after you and I had been talking together.

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
The Gay Lord Quex from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.