THE MAID. But you keep your secrets—even from women—so you say.
THE GYPSY. It was a vain boast. Sometime, with my head in a woman's lap, I shall blab away the secrets that give me power. I know it. Somewhere in the world is a woman whose look will intoxicate me more than wine. And for her sake I shall invent some new folly.
THE MAID. What a pity!
THE GYPSY. No—the thought cheers me. So long as there are women, men will be fools. Their Ka-Fe will not help them.
THE MAID. Do you approve of folly, then?
THE GYPSY. It is the thing that makes life worth living. I have committed every kind of folly I know, and the world would be dull and empty if I did not think that some new and greater folly lay ahead.
THE MAID. You think, then, that one should surrender oneself to folly?
THE GYPSY. I think so truly. What have you on the tip of your tongue?
What folly have you given yourself to, my child?
THE MAID. I am afraid you will laugh at me. …
THE GYPSY. Not I. Tell me, my dear, are you in love?