GEORGIANA.  That’s true, go on!  What does it matter, it’s good-by!

[COAST goes on the balcony. MRS. CARLEY, on balcony, calls, “Here comes DICK!” GEORGIANA hesitates and then goes close to the window.  She stands in a chair so as to see over the others’ heads, hidden behind the curtain of the half-open window, and watches.  The music is louder as they pass under the balcony; a flag is seen almost on level with the balcony floor.  Those on the balcony wave and shout, and shouts are heard in the street. GEORGIANA stands still, wiping the tears from her eyes every moment with a tiny wad of a handkerchief, and as the music passes, growing less loud,

THE CURTAIN FALLS

ACT III

Eight months later. GEORGIANA’S room, an octagonal room with dark panel walnut woodwork and panels of yellow brocade, with furniture to match.  All in the simplest style of Louis XV.  There is a fireplace on the Left, and doors Right and Left.  Two windows at the back.  At right of the Centre is a very large dressing table covered with massive silver toilet articles, a big mirror, candelabra, etc., and a silver-framed, photograph of DICK COLEMAN. There is a low bench before the table, tables and chairs about the room, and a most comfortable, roomy sofa, on the Left, piled with embroidered pillows.  It is after seven and the lamps are lit. STEVEN enters from Left and sits on the sofa.  He is haggard, his clothes mussed, his linen rumpled and soiled.  He is painfully nervous and agitated; he cannot keep still; as soon as he sits down he gets up; he goes from one place in the room to another, taking up a picture without looking at it, sitting down and getting up again.  Twice he half whispers, half groans, “Good God!” He takes out a pistol from his pocket, looks at it, and puts it away again as LIZZIE enters Right.

LIZZIE.  Miss Carley says she’ll be in as soon as she can.

STEVEN. [Rising and going to the dressing table.] Is she dressing for the ball now?

LIZZIE.  No, sir, she’s wearing a tea gown for dinner; it’ll be a grand sight, the ball, sir!

STEVEN.  I suppose so.

LIZZIE.  Pity we couldn’t ’ave got the Grand Duke here, sir, to dinner.

STEVEN. [Moving about.] We couldn’t afford to entertain a Russian prince, Lizzie,—­don’t tell your mistress,—­but I’ve been speculating again and we’re hard up.

LIZZIE.  Oh, I am so sorry, sir—­I know how to sympathize with you, though we did get our money back!  Perhaps you’ll get yours.

STEVEN.  How about you and Moles?

[Comes to LIZZIE.

LIZZIE.  Well, sir, last Tuesday we counted up, we’re about two years off, or fourteen hundred dollars distance, so to speak.  We’ve calculated then we could marry and settle down if we’d be satisfied with two rooms and no children.