D. Julian. [To Teodora.] Didn't I tell you he was going out of his mind?
Teodora. But, Ernest, where are you wandering?
D. Julian. Yes. What has all this to do with the matter?
Ernest. Sir, I have come to the conclusion that others, seeing me housed and fed here, are saying of me what I long have thought. They see me constantly driving out with you, in the morning walking with Teodora or Mercedes, in your opera-box, hunting on your lands, and daily occupying the same place at your table. Though you would like to think otherwise, in one way or another the gossip runs: Who is he? Is he a relation? Not so. The secretary? Still less. A partner? If a partner, it may be accepted he brings little or nothing to the general fund. So they chatter.
D. Julian. By no means. You are raving.
Ernest. I beg to contradict you.
D. Julian. Then give me a name.
Ernest. Sir?——
D. Julian. One will do.
Ernest. There is one at hand—upstairs.