Louis. That is it—"alone"! [He lowers his voice as he glances toward the open door.] For she would not have moved at all if I hadn't come to bully her into it. A fanatic, a fanatic!
Anne [brusquely]. She is a fool. Therefore be patient with her.
Louis [warningly]. Hush.
Eloise [in a loud, careless tone from the other room]. Oh, I heard you! What does it matter? [She returns, carrying a handsome skirt and bodice of brocade and a woman's long mantle of light-green cloth, hooded and lined with fur. She drops them into the portmanteau and closes it.] There! I've finished your packing for you.
Louis [rising]. My cousin, I regret that we could not provide servants for this flight. [Bowing formally.] I regret that we have been compelled to ask you to do a share of what is necessary.
Eloise [turning to go out again]. That all?
Louis [lifting the portmanteau]. I fear—
Eloise [with assumed fatigue]. Yes, you usually do. What now?
Louis [flushing painfully]. The portmanteau is too heavy. [He returns to the desk, sits, and busies himself with his writing, keeping his grieved face from her view.]
Eloise. You mean you're too weak to carry it?