NAPOLEON. Hm! (He looks at her, takes up the packet and looks at
it, pursing his lips and balancing it in his hand; looks at her
again; passes the packet into his left hand and puts it behind
his back, raising his right to scratch the back of his head as he
turns and goes up to the edge of the vineyard, where he stands
for a moment looking out into the vines, deep in thought. The
Lady watches him in silence, somewhat slightingly. Suddenly he
turns and comes back again, full of force and decision.) I grant
your request, madame. Your courage and resolution deserve to
succeed. Take the letters for which you have fought so well; and
remember henceforth that you found the vile, vulgar Corsican
adventurer as generous to the vanquished after the battle as he
was resolute in the face of the enemy before it. (He offers her
the packet.)

LADY (without taking it, looking hard at him). What are you at
now, I wonder? (He dashes the packet furiously to the floor.)
Aha! I've spoiled that attitude, I think. (She makes him a pretty
mocking curtsey.)

NAPOLEON (snatching it up again). Will you take the letters and
begone (advancing and thrusting them upon her)?

LADY (escaping round the table). No: I don't want letters.

NAPOLEON. Ten minutes ago, nothing else would satisfy you.

LADY (keeping the table carefully between them). Ten minutes ago
you had not insulted me past all bearing.