Marquise. I thought I never should.
Duc. The things we think we never shall do include all the most delightful things we do.
Marquise. You seem to flatter yourself, monsieur. I meant what I said then: but times are changed.
Duc. Faith, yes! The times more than I.
Marquise. More than you? Ah, changeful times!
Duc. And their changes bring more grief than any of mine could.
Marquise. Oh, as for grief—! It was your rudeness I deplored, more than my loss.
Duc. I am never rude, madame. I may have been——
Marquise. (Low.) Unfaithful?
Duc. (Low.) Unworthy, madame. (She looks at him for a moment and sighs. He smiles and is about to speak when a great shout is heard from the direction of the Place Louis Quinze. She starts, turns a little pale, and involuntarily stretches out a hand to him.)