Marquise. But you hesitated.
Duc. (Low.) If we must talk of death, pray let it be of mine. (She glances at him and lays her hand on his for a moment.) Yours seems too—too—— (Smiles.) I want a word. Well, too incongruous, dear Marquise.
Marquise. I have confessed—and forgiven all my enemies.
Duc. Am I your enemy? Have you no forgiveness left for friends? (She looks at him gravely for a moment, then smiles reluctantly.) Why, we were growing grave! That would be a bad ending.
Marquise. The most seemly ending!
Duc. For me? Oh, oh, Marquise! They’d think they’d got hold of the wrong man. Your hand’s a trifle cold.
Marquise. (Laughing nervously.) Well, if it is? We’ve stopped again! Are we near now?
Duc. At the entrance of the Place, I believe. (Looks at her and goes on quickly.) You and I have walked here together before now. You remember? Alone together—so often. (Rises.) Forgive me—as you face towards the Place the sun is in your eyes. Pray sit the other way. It’s pleasanter to look towards the river—cooler to the eye. You remember our walks, dear Marquise?
Marquise. You still look towards the Place, though.
Duc. (Laughing.) Why yes! I can’t have the dogs saying I daren’t——