Upstairs Duchess Susan made a show of embracing her. Both were trembling.
The duchess ascribed her condition to those dreadful men. 'What makes
them be at me so?' she said.
And Chloe said, 'Because you are beautiful.'
'Am I?'
'You are.'
'I am?'
'Very beautiful; young and beautiful; beautiful in the bud. You will
learn to excuse them, madam.'
'But, Chloe--' The duchess shut her mouth. Out of a languid reverie, she
sighed: 'I suppose I must be! My duke--oh, don't talk of him. Dear man!
he's in bed and fast asleep long before this. I wonder how he came to let
me come here.
I did bother him, I know. Am I very, very beautiful, Chloe, so that men
can't help themselves?'
'Very, madam.'
'There, good-night. I want to be in bed, and I can't kiss you because you
keep calling me madam, and freeze me to icicles; but I do love you,
Chloe.'
'I am sure you do.'
'I'm quite certain I do. I know I never mean harm. But how are we women
expected to behave, then? Oh, I'm unhappy, I am.'
'You must abstain from playing.
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