Vald. But I am delighted— I can't express it:—I am glad to a folly. Tol de rol—tol de rol—
(Singing and skipping about affectedly.)
Liv. Cruel creature! to sing at what, perhaps, will make others weep.
Vald. Weep!—No, I don't weep. I am happy to a folly, but I don't weep. (Skipping about again.) Tol lol de rol!—Plague take these stones! this ground is abominably rough.
Dart. Fie upon it! any ground is smooth enough for a happy man to skip upon.
Liv. You smile, Dartz; your news is of your own invention.
Dart. Not absolutely, Madam; there was such a rumour.
Vald. (eagerly.) A rumour! only a rumour! Why did you say it was true?
Dart. To give you a moment's pleasure, Valdemere. If you have enjoyed it, you are a gainer; and the disappointment, I hope, will not break your heart.
Vald. It is cruel indeed. But who can feel disappointment in this fair presence? (Bowing to Liv.) Let us go to the grotto, charming Livia; we waste our time here with folly.—Give me thy basket, child, (to Jean.) I'll dispose of every chaplet it contains to admiration. I'll hang them all up with mine own hand.
Liv. Don't be so very active: you positively shan't follow me to the grotto: I told you so before.
