FORTUNE. It is pas' ze time for you to dress for dinner.
LUCAS. I'll come. [FORTUNE goes out.]
ST. OLPHERTS. When do we next meet, dear fellow?
LUCAS. No, no—please not again.
[Nella enters, excitedly.]
NELLA [ Speaking over her shoulder.] Si, Signora; ecco il Signore. (Yes, Signora; her is the Signor.) [To Cleeve.] Scusi, Signore. Quando la vendra come e cara—! (Pardon, Signor, when you see her you'll see how sweet she looks—!) [Agnes's voice is heard.]
AGNES. [Outside.] Am I keeping you waiting, Lucas?
[She enters, handsomely gowned, her throat and arms bare, the fashion of her hair roughly altered. She stops abruptly upon seeing ST. OLPHERTS; a strange light comes into her eyes; her voice, manner, bearing, all express triumph. The two men stare at her blankly. She appears to be a beautiful woman.]
AGNES. [To Nella.] Un petit chale noir tricote—cher-chez-le. [Nella withdraws.] Ah, you're not dressed, Lucas dear.
LUCAS. What—what time is it? [He goes towards the door, still staring at AGNES.]