Bert. (starting) Ah! Rosabelle—good lass!—how art, Rosabelle?
Ros. Why, Mr. Bertrand, how pale you look, and your limbs quite tremble—I fear me you are ill.
Bert. Oh, no—I am well—quite well—never better.
Ros. Then you are out of spirits.
Bert. You mistake—I am all happiness—ha! ha!—all joy!
Ros. What! because the wars are over, and chevalier Florian returns to us?—’tis a blest hearing, truly—after all the hardships and dangers he has passed to see him once again in safety—
Bert. (involuntarily) Ah! would to heaven we might!
Ros. Can there be any doubt? He reaches the chateau this night—will he not be in safety then?
Bert. Yes, yes, with this night every danger certainly will cease.
Ros. Bertrand! why do you rub your hand before your eyes?—surely you are weeping.