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Nay, Sir, you must not.

Foolish girl! I know thy fair friend better than thou dost. Let me pass to her apartment, and I'll soon make her glowing lips contradict the cold words of her letter.

Indeed, Baron Hartman, you must not pass.

Why so? Nonsensical mummery!

She wishes to be alone.

Alone! wishes to be alone! that is not her usual inclination. What is the matter?

She is indisposed, and can see no one. And I must take the liberty to say that you are deluding yourself when you mistake that cheerful gaiety of her manner, which is natural to her, for a proof of partiality to your company.

If what you say be true, young mistress,—if this answer of hers be a serious one, I have not deluded myself, but she has deluded me.