Beatrice—[Her glances follow Alexandra through the door out to the garden.] I didn't care to speak of it in her presence. But that's just it. Nothing has happened.
Hyacinth—I don't understand.
Beatrice—Albert told you how much he loved us all.
Hyacinth—Yes.
Beatrice—Well, he has fallen in love with everyone here . . . except Alexandra.
Hyacinth—What did you expect in three days?
Beatrice—Not love, perhaps . . . but at least some sign of interest in the girl. But no. Not the slightest advance. Though we did everything we could.
Hyacinth—Perhaps . . . there are . . . political reasons. . . .
Beatrice—[With a smile.] You underestimate me, Karl.
Hyacinth—Forgive me. . . . I know you are the best informed woman in Europe.
Beatrice—I'll show you my correspondence. Oh, I have no illusions on the subject. I know perfectly well that the only reason they are considering a marriage with us is because two or three royal families have made simultaneous advances and they can't afford to offend any of them.
Hyacinth—I see.
