Marquise. (Low, but eagerly.) You suspected me of——? Was that why you——?
Duc. No. I suspected her.
Marquise. Her? But of what?
Duc. Of wit, madame, and of charm. I was most unjust.
Marquise. (Smiling.) And not perhaps of one other thing—in which respect you were unjust too?
Duc. (Looking at her a moment and then smiling.) No, no—on my honour I was not refused.
Marquise. Oh, not refused! (She turns away.)
Duc. Shall I tell you the reason of that?
Marquise. Can’t I—I at least—guess the reason?
Duc. You least of all can guess it. I did not ask, Marquise.