Part 3 (1/2)

You're plotting something artful. I know you very little, but I guess you're an awful scoundrel.

MANCINI

[_Laughs_]: Such an insult from such beautiful lips.

[_Enter an ”artist,” apparently an athlete._]

ATHLETE

Papa Briquet, there's a gentleman from beyond the grave asking for you.

ACTRESS

A ghost?

ATHLETE

No. He seems alive. Did you ever see a drunken ghost?

BRIQUET

If he's drunk, tell him I'm out, Thomas. Does he want to see me or the Count?

ATHLETE

No, you. Maybe he's not drunk, but just a ghost.

MANCINI

[_Draws himself together, puffs up_]: A society man?

ATHLETE

Yes. I'll tell him to come in.

[_One hears the whip cracking in the ring. The Tango sounds very low and distant--then comes nearer--louder. Silence._]

BRIQUET

[_Touching_ ZINIDA'S _arm_]: Tired?

ZINIDA

[_Drawing back a little_]: No.

POLLY

Your red lion is nervous to-day, Zinida!

ZINIDA