MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY.  Yes, there is but those little arrangement over the settlement paper between your advocate and Lord Hawcastle’s; but you Americans—­you laugh at such things.  You are big, so big, like your country!

HORACE.  Ah, believe me, the great world, the world of yourself, Countess, has thoroughly alienated me.

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [coming close to him, looking at him admiringly].  Ah, you retain one quality!  You are big, you are careless, you are free.

[She lays her right hand on his left arm.  He takes her hand with his right hand.  They stand facing each other.]

HORACE [smiling].  Well, perhaps, in those things I am American, but in others I fancy I should be thought something else, shouldn’t I?

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [earnestly].  You are a debonair man of the great world; and yet you are still American, in that you are ab-om-i-nab-ly rich. [She laughs sweetly.] The settlement—­Such matter as that, over which a Frenchman, an Italian, an Englishman might hesitate, you laugh!  Such matter as one-hundred-fifty thousand pounds—­you set it aside; you laugh!  You say, “Oh yes—­take it!”

HORACE [his eyes wide with surprise].  A hundred and fifty thousand pounds!  Why, that’s seven hundred and fifty thous—­[He pauses, then finishes decidedly.] She couldn’t use the money to better advantage.

[Enter ETHEL from the hotel.  She has one thick book under her arm, another in her hand.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [to HORACE, with deep admiration].  My friend, how wise you are!

[She perceives ETHEL’S entrance over HORACE’S shoulder, and at once runs to her, embraces her, and kisses her, crying.]

Largesse, sweet Countess of Hawcastle!  Largesse! and au revoir!  Adieu!  I leave you with your dear brother.  A rivederci.

[She runs gayly out, waving her parasol to them as she goes.]

HORACE [going to ETHEL].  Dear old sis, dear old pal!

[Affectionately gives her hand a squeeze and drops it.]

ETHEL [radiant].  Isn’t it glorious, Hoddy!

HORACE.  The others are almost as pleased as we are.

[He leans back in chair, knees crossed, hands clasped over knees, and regards her proudly.]

ETHEL [opens the books she carries, laying them on one of the tea-tables].  This is Burke’s Peerage, and this is Froissart’s Chronicles.  I’ve been reading it all over again—­the St. Aubyns at Crecy and Agincourt [with an exalted expression], and St. Aubyn will be my name!

HORACE [smiling].  They want it to be your name soon, sis.

ETHEL [suddenly thoughtful, speaks appealingly]. You’re fond of
Almeric, aren’t you, Hoddy—­you admire him, don’t you?

HORACE.  Certainly.  Think of all he represents.

ETHEL [enthusiastically].  Ah, yes!  Crusader’s blood flows in his veins.  It is to the nobility that must be within him that I have plighted my troth.  I am ready to marry him when they wish.