Part 9 (1/2)

GERTRUDE. [Turning to go.] G.o.d bless you.

AGNES. Gertrude! [With altered manner.] You--you have the trick of making me lonely also. [Going to GERTRUDE, taking her hands and fondling them.] I'm tired of talking to the walls! And your blood is warm to me! Shall I tell you, or not--or not?

GERTRUDE. Do tell me.

AGNES. There is a man here, in Venice, who is torturing me--flaying me alive.

GERTRUDE. Torturing you?

AGNES. He came here about a week ago; he is trying to separate us.

GERTRUDE. You and Mr. Cleeve?

AGNES. Yes.

GERTRUDE. You are afraid he will succeed?

AGNES. Succeed! What nonsense you talk!

GERTRUDE. What upsets you, then?

AGNES. After all, it's difficult to explain--the feeling is so indefinite. It's like--something in the air. This man is influencing us both oddly. Lucas is as near illness again as possible; I can hear his nerves vibrating. And I--you know what a fish-like thing I am as a rule--just look at me now, as I'm speaking to you.

GERTRUDE. But don't you and Mr. Cleeve--talk to each other?

AGNES. As children do when the lights are put out--of everything but what's uppermost in their minds.

GERTRUDE. You have met the man?

AGNES. I intend to meet him.

GERTRUDE. Who is he?

AGNES. A relation of Lucas's--the Duke of St. Olpherts

GERTRUDE. He has right on his side, then?

AGNES. If you choose to think so.

GERTRUDE. Supposing he does succeed in taking Mr. Cleeve away from you?

AGNES. [Staring at GERTRUDE.] What, now, do you mean?

GERTRUDE. Yes.

[There is a brief pause; then AGNES walks across the room, wiping her brow with her handkerchief.]

AGNES. I tell you, that idea's--preposterous.

GERTRUDE. Oh, I can't understand you.