_
THE NEGRESS. Stupid of me. I was talking to another lady this morning;
and I left the peg in.
BURGE-LUBIN. But I am so sorry.
THE NEGRESS [_sunnily: still busy with the scarf_] Why? It was my fault.
BURGE-LUBIN [_embarrassed_] Well--er--But I suppose you were used to it
in Africa.
THE NEGRESS. Your delicacy is very touching, Mr President. It would be
funny if it were not so unpleasant, because, like all white delicacy, it
is in the wrong place. How do you think this suits my complexion?
BURGE-LUBIN. How can any really vivid color go wrong with a black satin
skin? It is our women's wretched pale faces that have to be matched and
lighted. Yours is always right.
THE NEGRESS. Yes: it is a pity your white beauties have all the same
ashy faces, the same colorless drab, the same age. But look at their
beautiful noses and little lips! They are physically insipid: they have
no beauty: you cannot love them; but how elegant!
BURGE-LUBIN. Cant you find an official pretext for coming to see me?
Isnt it ridiculous that we have never met? It's so tantalizing to see
you and talk to you, and to know all the time that you are two hundred
miles away, and that I cant touch you?
THE NEGRESS.
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