Ah! the horrid man!
JUSTINE.
Ah! dere is no politesse, no more den dere is police in dis country.
LADY AMARANTHE.
If Lord Amaranthe were not two hundred miles off—but, as it is, I must find some remedy—let me think—bribery, I suppose. Have they sent for him? I dread to see the wretch. What noise is that? allez voir, ma chère!
JUSTINE—(goes and returns.)
Madame, c'est justement notre homme, voulez-vous qu'il entre?
LADY AMARANTHE.
Oui, faites entrer.