THE MANAGER. Captain Duval.
The Inca, in military uniform, advances with a marked and imposing stage walk; stops; orders the trembling Manager by a gesture to place the jewel case on the table; dismisses him with a frown; touches his helmet graciously to Ermyntrude; and takes off his cloak.
THE INCA. I beg you, madam, to be quite at your ease, and to speak to me without ceremony.
ERMYNTRUDE [moving haughtily and carelessly to the table]. I hadn't the slightest intention of treating you with ceremony. [She sits down: a liberty which gives him a perceptible shock.] I am quite at a loss to imagine why I should treat a perfect stranger named Duval: a captain! almost a subaltern! with the smallest ceremony.
THE INCA. That is true. I had for the moment forgotten my position.
ERMYNTRUDE. It doesn't matter. You may sit down.
THE INCA [frowning.] What!
ERMYNTRUDE. I said, you...may...sit...down.
THE INCA. Oh. [His moustache droops. He sits down.]
ERMYNTRUDE. What is your business?