victim and martyr.
You, madam, as the--er--injured wife (placing her), shall stand here,
firm yet expectant, protecting your child, yet looking hopefully for
assistance toward its natural protector. You, Miss Mary, shall stand
here (placing her), as Moral Retribution, leaning toward and slightly
appealing to me, the image of--er--er--Inflexible Justice! (Inflates his
chest, puts his hand in his bosom, and strikes an attitude.)

Door of young Morton's room opens, and discloses MR. OAKHURST gazing at
the group. He starts slightly on observing the DUCHESS, but instantly
recovers himself, and faces the company coldly. The DUCHESS starts
on observing OAKHURST, and struggles in confusion towards the door,
dragging with her the child and MISS MARY, who endeavors to re-assure
her. COL. STARBOTTLE looks in astonishment from one to the other, and
advances to front.

Col. Starbottle (aside). The--er--tableau, although striking in moral
force, is apparently--er--deficient in moral stamina.

Miss Mary (angrily to the DUCHESS). I'm ashamed of you! (To OAKHURST,
advancing.) I don't ask pardon for my intrusion. If you are Alexander
Morton, you are my kinsman, and you will know that I cannot introduce
myself better than as the protector of an injured woman. Come here! (To
the DUCHESS, dragging her towards OAKHURST. To OAKHURST.) Look upon this
woman: she claims to be--

Starbottle (stepping between MISS MARY and the DUCHESS). A moment,
Miss Mary, a single moment! Permit me to--er--explain. The whole thing,
the--er--situation reminds me, demn me, of most amusing incident at
Sacramento in '52. Large party at Hank Suedecois: know Hank? Confirmed
old bach of sixty. Dinner for forty. Everything in style, first
families, Ged,--Judge Beeswinger, Mat Boompointer, and Maje Blodgett
of Ahlabam: know old Maje Blodgett? Well, Maje was there. Ged, sir,
delay,--everybody waiting. I went to Hank. "Hank," I says,
"what's matter? why delay?"--"Star," he says,--always called me
Star,--"Star,--it's cook!"--"Demn cook," I says: "discharge
cook,--only a black mulatto anyway!"--"Can't, Star," he says:
"impossible!"--"Can't?" says I.--"No," says he. "Listen, Star," he says,
"family secret! Honor! Can't discharge cook, because cook--demn
it--'s MY wife!" Fact, sir, fact--showed marriage certificate--married
privately seven years! Fact, sir--

The Duchess (to MISS MARY). Some other time, miss, let us go now.
There's a mistake, miss, I can't explain. Some