Part 166 (1/2)

THEKLA.

What then?

COUNTESS.

That you're the daughter of the Prince Duke Friedland.

THEKLA.

Well, and what farther?

d.u.c.h.eSS.

What? A pretty question!

THEKLA.

He was born that which we have but become.

He's of an ancient Lombard family, Son of a reigning princess.

COUNTESS.

Are you dreaming?

Talking in sleep? An excellent jest, forsooth!

We shall no doubt right courteously entreat him To honor with his hand the richest heiress In Europe.

THEKLA.

That will not be necessary.

COUNTESS.

Methinks 'twere well, though, not to run the hazard.

THEHLA.

His father loves him; Count Octavio Will interpose no difficulty----

COUNTESS.

His!

His father! His! But yours, niece, what of yours?

THERLA.

Why, I begin to think you fear his father, So anxiously you hide it from the man!

His father, his, I mean.

COUNTESS (looks at her as scrutinizing).

Niece, you are false.

THEBLA.

Are you then wounded? O, be friends with me!

COUNTESS.

You hold your game for won already. Do not Triumph too soon!

THEKLA (interrupting her, and attempting to soothe her).

Nay now, be friends with me.

COUNTESS.

It is not yet so far gone.