Ellie!
ELLIE. The garden of the Viscount--
MRS HUSHABYE. --de Rougemont?
ELLIE [innocently]. No: de Larochejaquelin. A French family. A
vicomte. His life has been one long romance. A tiger--
MRS HUSHABYE. Slain by his own hand?
ELLIE. Oh, no: nothing vulgar like that. He saved the life of the
tiger from a hunting party: one of King Edward's hunting parties
in India. The King was furious: that was why he never had his
military services properly recognized. But he doesn't care. He is
a Socialist and despises rank, and has been in three revolutions
fighting on the barricades.
MRS HUSHABYE. How can you sit there telling me such lies? You,
Ellie, of all people! And I thought you were a perfectly simple,
straightforward, good girl.
ELLIE [rising, dignified but very angry]. Do you mean you don't
believe me?
MRS HUSHABYE. Of course I don't believe you. You're inventing
every word of it. Do you take me for a fool?
Ellie stares at her. Her candor is so obvious that Mrs Hushabye
is puzzled.
ELLIE. Goodbye, Hesione. I'm very sorry. I see now that it sounds
very improbable as I tell it. But I can't stay if you think that
way about me.
MRS HUSHABYE [catching her dress]. You shan't go. I couldn't be
so mistaken: I know too well what liars are like.
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