opposite side to
its interest is lost. He--

LADY. W-w-w-w-w-wh! Do stop a moment. I want to know how you make me
out to be English at this rate.

NAPOLEON (dropping his rhetorical style). It's plain enough. You wanted
some letters that belonged to me. You have spent the morning in
stealing them--yes, stealing them, by highway robbery. And you have
spent the afternoon in putting me in the wrong about them--in assuming
that it was I who wanted to steal YOUR letters--in explaining that it
all came about through my meanness and selfishness, and your goodness,
your devotion, your self-sacrifice. That's English.

LADY. Nonsense. I am sure I am not a bit English. The English are a
very stupid people.

NAPOLEON. Yes, too stupid sometimes to know when they're beaten. But I
grant that your brains are not English. You see, though your
grandfather was an Englishman, your grandmother was--what? A
Frenchwoman?

LADY. Oh, no. An Irishwoman.

NAPOLEON (quickly). Irish! (Thoughtfully.) Yes: I forgot the Irish. An
English army led by an Irish general: that might be a match for a
French army led by an Italian general. (He pauses, and adds, half
jestingly, half moodily) At all events, YOU have beaten me; and what
beats a man first will beat him last. (He goes meditatively into the
moonlit vineyard and looks up. She steals out after him. She ventures
to rest her hand on his shoulder, overcome by the beauty of the night
and emboldened by its obscurity.)

LADY (softly). What are you looking at?

NAPOLEON (pointing up). My star.

LADY. You believe in that?

NAPOLEON. I do. (They look at it for a moment, she leaning a little on
his shoulder.)

LADY. Do you know that the English say that a man's star is not
complete without a woman's garter?

NAPOLEON (scandalized--abruptly shaking her off and coming back into
the room). Pah! The hypocrites! If the French said that, how they would
hold up their hands in pious horror! (He goes to the inner door and
holds it open, shouting) Hallo! Giuseppe. Where's that light, man. (He
comes between the table and the sideboard, and moves the chair to the
table, beside his own.) We have still to burn the letter. (He takes up
the packet. Giuseppe comes back, pale and still trembling, carrying a
branched candlestick with a couple of candles alight, in one hand, and
a broad snuffers tray in the other.)

GIUSEPPE (piteously, as he places the light on the table). Excellency:
what were you looking up