AMELIA. No.

BARON. Have you not dreamt at all to-night?

AMELIA. Oh yes--I have dreamt of our chaplain, Mr. Anhalt.

BARON. Ah ha! As if he stood before you and the Count to ask for the
ring.

AMELIA. No: not that--I dreamt we were all still in France, and he,
my tutor, just going to take his leave of us for ever--I 'woke with the
fright, and found my eyes full of tears.

BARON. Psha! I want to know if you can love the Count. You saw him
at the last ball we were at in France: when he capered round you; when
he danced minuets; when he----. But I cannot say what his conversation
was.

AMELIA. Nor I either--I do not remember a syllable of it.

BARON. No? Then I do not think you like him.

AMELIA. I believe not.

BARON. But I think it proper to acquaint you he is rich, and of great
consequence: rich and of consequence; do you hear?

AMELIA. Yes, dear papa. But my tutor has always told me that birth
and fortune are inconsiderable things, and cannot give happiness.