Countess. What! don't you know him yourself?
Fra. Oh! I know him well enough. I mean his real self—His heart—his soul—his worth—his honour!—Perhaps you think one knows a man, when one is acquainted with his name and person.
Countess. 'Tis well said, friend; you please me much. And now I should like to know you. Who are you?
Fra. Your humble servant.
[Exit.
Countess. This is affectation! A desire to appear singular! Every one wishes to make himself distinguished. One sails round the world; another creeps into a hovel.
Bar. And the man apes his master!
Countess. Come, brother, let us seek the Count. He and Mrs. Haller turned into the lawn—
[Going.
Bar. Stay. First a word or two, sister. I am in love.