John. Yes, in one respect the young lady is too proud, and in another not proud enough. Just like the Countess was when she was alive. She felt most at home in the kitchen, and in the stable, but she would never ride a horse; she’d go about with dirty cuffs, but insisted on having the Count’s coronet on the buttons. The young lady, so far now as she is. concerned, doesn’t take enough trouble about either herself or her person; in a manner of speaking she is not refined. Why, only just now, when she was dancing in the barn, she snatched Forster away from Anna, and asked him to dance with herself. We wouldn’t behave like that; but that’s what happens when the gentry make themselves cheap. Then they are cheap, and no mistake about it. But she is real stately! Superb! Whew! What shoulders, what a bust and—
Christine. Ye-e-s; but she makes up a good bit, too. I know what Clara says, who helps her to dress.
John. Oh, Clara! You women are always envious of each other. I’ve been out with her and seen her ride, and then how she dances!
Christine. I say, John, won’t you dance with me when I’m ready?
John. Of course I will.
Christine. Promise me?
John. Promise? If I say I’ll do a thing, then I always do it. Anyway, thanks very much for the food, it was damned good. [He puts the cork back into the bottle. The young lady, at the glass door, speaks to people outside.] I’ll be back in a minute. [He conceals the bottle of wine in a napkin, and stands up respectfully.]
Julie.[Enters and goes to CHRISTINE by the fireplace.] Well, is it ready?
Christine.[Intimates to her by signs that JOHN is present.]
John.[Gallantly.] Do the ladies want to talk secrets?