L. There is no occasion for understanding it; but do you feel it? Are you sure that your heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked?
Lucilla (much relieved by finding herself among phrases with which she is acquainted). Yes, sir. I'm sure of that.
L. (pensively). I'm sorry for it, Lucilla.
Lucilla. So am I, indeed.
L. What are you sorry with, Lucilla?
Lucilla. Sorry with, sir?
L. Yes; I mean, where do you feel sorry? in your feet?
Lucilla (laughing a little). No, sir, of course.
L. In your shoulders, then?
Lucilla. No, sir.