Agnes. [In a low voice, staring upon the ground.] Yes, love music.

[The door leading from Lucas’s room opens, and st. Olpherts and Lucas are heard talking.  Gertrude hastily goes out.  KUCAS enters; the boyishness of manner has left him—­he is pale and excited.]

Agnes.  What is the matter?

Lucas.  My wife is revealing quite a novel phase of character.

Agnes.  Your wife—?

Lucas.  The submissive mood.  It’s right that you should be told, Agnes.  She is here, at the Danieli, with my brother Sandford. [St. Olpherts enters slowly.] Yes, positively!  It appears that she has lent herself to a scheme of Sandford’s—­[glancing at st. Olpherts]—­and of—­and—­

St. Olpherts.  Of Sandford’s.

Lucas. [To Agnes.] A plan of reconciliation. [To st. Olpherts.] Tell Sybil that the submissive mood comes too late, by a year or so! [He paces to and fro.  Agnes sits, with an expressionless face.]

Agnes.[Quietly, to st. Olpherts.] The “friends” you were expecting,
Duke?

St. Olpherts. [Meekly.] Yes. [She smiles at him scornfully.]

Lucas.  Agnes dear, you and I leave here early tomorrow.

Agnes.  Very well, Lucas.

Lucas. [To st. Olpherts.] Duke, will you be the bearer of a note from me to Sandford?

St. Olpherts.  Certainly.

Lucas. [Going to the door of his room.] I’ll write it at once.

St. Olpherts. [Raising his voice.] You won’t see Sandford, then, dear
Lucas, for a moment or two?

Lucas.  No, no; pray excuse me. [He goes out.  St. Olpherts advances to
Agnes.  The sound of the music dies away.]

St. Olpherts. [Slipping his coat off and throwing it upon the head of the settee.] Upon my soul, I think you’ve routed us!

Agnes.  Yes.

St. Olpherts. [Sitting, breaking into a laugh.] Ha, ha! he, he, he!  Sir Sandford and Mrs. Cleeve will be so angry.  Such a devil of a journey for nothing!  Ho! [Coughing.] Ho, ho, ho!

Agnes.  This was to be your grand coup.

St. Olpherts.  I admit it—­I have been keeping this in reserve.

Agnes.  I see.  A further term of cat-and-dog life for Lucas and this lady—­but it would have served to dispose of me, you fondly imagined.  I see.

St. Olpherts.  I knew your hold on him was weakening. [She looks at him.] You knew it too. [She looks away.] He was beginning to find out that a dowdy demagogue is not the cheeriest person to live with.  I repeat, you’re a dooced clever woman, my dear. [She rises, with an impatient shake of her body, and walks past him, he following her with his eyes.] And a handsome one, into the bargain.