achment, that which was the chief cause of our separation. If love
renders her foolish, she would sooner or later have become so, even
without such influence. But enough of her! To something else. Is there
nothing new in town?
MARINELLI.
Next to nothing; for that Count Appiani will be married to-day is
little better than nothing.
PRINCE.
Count Appiani! To whom? I have not heard that he is engaged.
MARINELLI.
The affair has been kept a profound secret. And indeed, there was not
much to create a sensation. You will smile, Prince; but it ever happens
so with sentimental youths! Love always plays the worst of tricks. A
girl without fortune or rank has managed to catch him in her snares,
without any trouble, but with a little display of virtue, sensibility,
wit, and so forth.
PRINCE.
The man who can wholly resign himself to the impressions which
innocence and beauty make upon him is, in my opinion, rather to be
envied than derided. And what is the name of the happy fair one? For
though I well know, Marinelli, that you and Appiani dislike each other,
he is nevertheless a very worthy young man, a handsome man, a rich man,
and an honourable man. I should like to be able to attach him to
myself.
MARINELLI.
If it be not too late; for, as far as I can learn, it is not his
intention to seek his fortune at court. He will retire with his spouse
to his native valleys of Piedmont, and indulge himself in hunting
chamois or training marmots upon the Alps. What can he do better? Here
his prospects are blighted by the connection he has formed. The first
circles are closed against him.
PRINCE.
The first circles! What are they worth, mere resorts of ceremony,
restraint, ennui, and poverty? But how call you the fair being who is
the cause of all these wondrous sacrifices?
MARINELLI.
A certain--Emilia Galotti?
PRINCE.
What! Marinelli! a certain----
MARINELLI.
Emilia Calotti.
PRINCE.
Emilia Galotti? Never!----
MARINELLI.
Assuredly, your Highness.
PRINCE.
But no, I say. It is not, and it cannot be! You mistake the name
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