Symphorosa—He stretched his hand outside the bed.
Beatrice—What for?
Symphorosa—For his lemonade.
Beatrice—Was the lemonade there?
Symphorosa—Yes, he drank it.
Beatrice—I was so afraid it mightn't have been there! And then?
Symphorosa—Then he turned over and went to sleep again.
Beatrice—Thank you, dear.
Symphorosa—Not at all, dear. [Symphorosa hurries off.]
Beatrice—[Unhappily.] These past three days have been a great trial to me, Karl. I am absolutely certain that he is here on account of Alexandra. And yet he has treated the girl as if she didn't exist. And not a word, not a sign from his mother, Dominica. If he had serious intentions, she'd be here by this time. [Weeps.]
Hyacinth—Beatrice!
Beatrice—I am not myself. Think of it, we have only one day more. This afternoon, the ball to-night, and . . . if nothing happens . . . then our chances are gone, perhaps forever.
Hyacinth—And not a sign?
Beatrice—Not one. I needn't tell you how I have watched for one.
