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Liv. Does not his amiable relation there, who steals from us so quietly, know where he is?

Vald. If you are in quest of your friend, Chevalier, had you not better enquire at some of the peasants' houses in the neighbourhood? There may be some beauty in the village, perhaps, whose august presence a timid man may venture to approach, particularly if her charms should be somewhat concealed behind the friendly flax of her distaff.

Dart. Pardon me, Count; I thought my friend had aspired to a beauty, whose charms would have pleased him, indeed, behind the flax of a distaff but will not, I trust, entirely intimidate him from the more brilliant situation in which fortune has placed them. Aye; that glance in your eye, and that colour in your cheek, charming Livia, tell me, I am right.

Liv. They speak at random then; for it would puzzle a much wiser head than I wear on my shoulders to say what are his pretensions. He visits me, it is true, but suddenly takes his leave again, and the very next day, perhaps, as suddenly returns.

Vald. Like poor puss with roasted chesnuts before her, who draws back her burnt paw every time she attempts them, but will not give up the attack. He may, however, after some more of those hasty visits, find courage for it at last.

Dart. There is one attack, however, for