Marquis. This one (he hands her a third) is to a distant cousin of mine in Madrid, formerly the wife of——
Duchess (in surprise). But are they all widows?
Marquis (gravely). Yes, Madam, they are all widows—and all rich.
Duchess (sighing profoundly). It certainly seems a pity that with your knowledge of Versailles and your pleasant habit of friendship ... and your gallant record in the war ... you should be compelled to such adventures.
Marquis (lightly). There! there! Madam, do not pity me. Many a poor fellow is worse off than I. The fourth one.... (He produces yet another letter.)
Duchess (waving it aside). No, no, I have already seen too much of that correspondence! Trust me, Marquis, it will all end in smoke, and may even very possibly make you ridiculous.
Marquis (apologetically). Madam, I have done my best. I have put before you the very reasonable proposal that we should marry. I put it before you in the very manner which you suggest. It did not, for the moment at least, meet with your approval: and surely it was common-sense to keep my line of retreat open upon the four widows, by any one of which roads I might have fallen back after my defeat at your hands.
Duchess (thoughtfully). No, I do not think we should get married. There are too many doubts.... I have seen such experiments fail ... and (shrugging her shoulders) succeed ... I confess I have seen them fail and succeed.
Marquis. Indeed?