Beatrice—Once Albert is made to see the woman in Alexandra, the rest will be easy for us. We have no time to lose. He goes to-morrow. . . . And he seems to have taken a fancy to the tutor.
Hyacinth—Ah!
Symphorosa—Beatrice!
Beatrice—[Greatly excited.] Be still! Do you think I am in the mood to consider your petty prejudices now?
Hyacinth—And what is it you propose to do with the professor?
Beatrice—Invite him to the ball to-night.
Symphorosa—The world will come to an end.
Beatrice—And Alexandra will show him marked attention.
Symphorosa—That . . . that . . . is worthy of Machiavelli's brain.
Beatrice—It would never have occurred to me if Albert hadn't praised the professor. It was he who put the plan in my head. And it can't fail. A rival of his own rank might leave him quite indifferent . . . but a mere tutor . . . that is irresistible.
Symphorosa—I shan't live through it.
Beatrice—I command you to live through it. Alexandra will be attentive to the tutor . . . and . . . and Alexandra will dance a quadrille with the tutor. And God will forgive me, and God will for-
