‘You are.’
‘I am?’
‘Very beautiful; young and beautiful; beautiful in the bud. You will learn to excuse them, madam.’
‘But, Chloe—’ The duchess shut her mouth. Out of a languid reverie, she sighed: ‘I suppose I must be! My duke—oh, don’t talk of him. Dear man! he’s in bed and fast asleep long before this. I wonder how he came to let me come here.
I did bother him, I know. Am I very, very beautiful, Chloe, so that men can’t help themselves?’
‘Very, madam.’
‘There, good-night. I want to be in bed, and I can’t kiss you because you keep calling me madam, and freeze me to icicles; but I do love you, Chloe.’
‘I am sure you do.’
‘I’m quite certain I do. I know I never mean harm. But how are we women expected to behave, then? Oh, I’m unhappy, I am.’
‘You must abstain from playing.’