Bellac. But above this material and mortal beauty, there is another, time-defying, invisible to the naked eye, which the soul of purity serenely contemplates and cherishes with an unearthly love. That love, ladies, is the true Love, the mingling of two spirits, their flight far from the terrestrial mire—into the infinite blue of the ideal!
Ladies. Bravo!
Duchess. (To herself, rather loudly) Nonsense!
Bellac. (Looking at her) That love, mocked at by some, unknown to most,—I declare, my hand on my heart, that it does exist! In the souls of the elect, as Proudhon says——
Voices. (Protesting) Oh, Proudhon——!
Mme. de Loudan. Oh, Bellac!
Bellac. A writer whom I am astonished to find myself quoting—I beg your pardons! In the souls of the elect, there is nothing of earth.
Ladies. How delicate! Charming!
Duchess. (Bursting forth) Nonsense!
Ladies. Oh, Duchess!