Beatrice—I wanted to send to Vienna for a Duke, but there wasn't time. And that wouldn't have served as well, anyway
Alexandra—[Coolly.] As you wish. I shall invite the professor to the ball to-night.
Beatrice—But not with that expression.
Alexandra—I know, mother. With another expression.
Beatrice—And you will promise him that [bursts into tears]—that he may dance a quadrille with you. [Alexandra is silent.] Well? Why don't you speak?
Alexandra—This comes very suddenly, mother.
Beatrice—But our time is so short! Oh, if we only had more time! Well! Speak!
Alexandra—Don't misunderstand me, mother. I only want a moment to get used to the thought. The professor is a plain farmer's son.
Beatrice—Alas!
Alexandra—And when I think that my arm will rest in his.
Beatrice—You will wear long gloves, my child.
Alexandra—It isn't touching him that matters, mother . . . but the thought of it.
Beatrice—He is one of God's creatures, just as we are.
Alexandra—I'll try to remember that, mother.
