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[_Rising._] May I look at your literature?
[MRS. EDEN _goes to the writing-table and turns over the books she finds there. The_ d.u.c.h.eSS _glances at the clock, and eyes_ MRS. EDEN _with impatience._
MRS. EDEN.
"_Le Calvaire d'une vierge_." "_Lune de Miel_." "_Les Aventures de Madame Plon_." Oh, I've heard of this! this is a little--h'm!--isn't it?
d.u.c.h.eSS.
I read those things for the sake of their exquisitely polished style; the subjects escape me.
MRS. EDEN.
[_Seating herself by the writing-table and dipping into_ "_Madame Plon_."] Ah yes, the style--the style. [_Absorbed._] We haven't much real literary style in England, have we?
[SOPHY _returns, carrying a pink tea-gown trimmed with green ribbons, and a richly embroidered Mandarin's robe._
SOPHY.
Will your Grace put on one of these? [_With a curl of the lip._] They're both very becoming, I should think.
d.u.c.h.eSS.
[_Smiling sadly._] Becoming! as if that mattered, child!
SOPHY.
Which will your Grace--?
d.u.c.h.eSS.
[_To herself, closing her eyes._] _Couleur de rose_--[_to_ SOPHY]
er--that pink rag. Take off my collarette.
[SOPHY _lays the tea-gown and the robe over the back of the settee and proceeds to unfasten the_ d.u.c.h.eSS'S _pearl collarette._
MRS. EDEN.
[_Startled, by some pa.s.sage in the book she is reading._] Oh, I _say_!
d.u.c.h.eSS.
What, dear Mrs. Eden?
MRS. EDEN.
[_Bethinking herself--soberly._] Ah, yes, the style is excellent, isn't it?
d.u.c.h.eSS.
[_To_ SOPHY, _while the collarette is in process of removal._] Have you everything you require for the night, child?
SOPHY.
Yes, thank you, your Grace. Miss Gilchrist, Mrs. Eden's maid, has lent me a night-gown and a pair of slippers.
d.u.c.h.eSS.
[_Handing her bracelets to_ SOPHY.] Drop them into the case.
[SOPHY _puts the collarette and bracelets in the jewel-case. The_ d.u.c.h.eSS, _rising, again looks at the clock and at_ MRS. EDEN. SOPHY _returns to the_ d.u.c.h.eSS, _who is now behind the settee._
d.u.c.h.eSS.
[_To_ SOPHY.] It is very good of you, Sophy, to attend upon me.
SOPHY.
[_Averting her head._] Not at all, your Grace.
d.u.c.h.eSS.
[_Taking up the Mandarin's robe._] Here is a pretty thing for you.
[_Giving the robe to_ SOPHY.] Wear it to dress your hair in, in the morning.
SOPHY.
[_Breathing shortly._] Oh, no, your Grace--please--!
d.u.c.h.eSS.
Nonsense, child; take it.
[SOPHY, _somewhat out of countenance, lays the robe over the back of the chair._
MRS. EDEN.
[_Looking up_.] Well, you are a lucky girl, Sophy!
SOPHY.
Yes, I know it's very beautiful; [_returning to the_ d.u.c.h.eSS] but I--I think I'd rather not--
d.u.c.h.eSS.
Tsch, tsch! help me. [_The_ d.u.c.h.eSS _is standing before the cheval-gla.s.s, which conceals her from the audience. With_ SOPHY'S _aid, she slips out of her dress and puts herself into the tea-gown, while she talks to_ MRS. EDEN.] Miss Eden is not well to-night, I am afraid. She didn't come into the drawing-room.
[MRS. EDEN _rises and goes to the settee, upon which she partly kneels while she chatters to the_ d.u.c.h.eSS.
