Enter the Lady Melissa.
Mel. Heavens! it is the strange nobleman. I am sure I am all of a flutter.
Meg. (advancing with formal bows). My lady, I am enchanted (bows again; then takes several steps to the right, then to the left, and bows). What a wonderful good fortune! Ever since I had the honour to see you just now, I have only lived in the hope of seeing you again.
Mel. (curtsying). Oh, my lord, you great courtiers can find little to interest you in our poor little Court and its humble surroundings.
Meg. Madam, I beg! not a word! I was just thinking that you exactly resembled the late divine Empress.
Mel. Oh, my lord, forbear! The Empress! and I have never been out of Cherson! You flatter me, you flatter me, indeed. That is the way with all you courtiers from Constantinople. Now, if you had said that my Lady Gycia was beautiful——
Meg. My dear lady, I do not admire her in the least. She has no manners, really—nothing, at any rate, to attract a man of the great world; a mere undeveloped girl, with all the passion to come. No, no, my good lady, give me a woman who has lived. We courtiers know manners and breeding when we see them, and yours are simply perfect, not to say Imperial.
Mel. What a magnificent nature! Well, to say the truth, the Lady Gycia is not at all to my taste. It is a cold, insipid style of beauty, at the best; and she is as self-willed and as straitlaced as a lady abbess. I suppose she is well matched with the Prince Asander?
Meg. Well, he is a handsome lad enough, and virtuous, but weak, as youth always is, and pliable. Now, for myself, I am happy to say I am steadfast and firm as a rock.
Mel. Ah, my lord, if all women saw with my eyes, there would not be such a run after youth. Give me a mature man, who has seen the world and knows something of life and manners.