_Scene represents a room at an inn, at Weimar—On one side of the stage the bar-room, with jellies, lemons in nets, syllabubs_, _and part of a cold roast fowl, &c.—On the opposite side, a window looking into the street, through which persons (inhabitants of Weimar) are seen passing to and fro in apparent agitation_—MATILDA _appears in a great coat and riding-habit, seated at the corner of the dinner-table, which is covered with a clean huckaback cloth; plates and napkins, with buck’s-horn-handled knives and forks, are laid as if for four persons._ MAT. Is it impossible for me to have dinner sooner? LAND. Madam, the Brunswick post-waggon is not yet come in, and the ordinary is never before two o’clock. MAT. [_With a look expressive of disappointment, but immediately recomposing herself._] Well, then, I must have patience. [_Exit Landlady._] Oh Casimere!—How often have the thoughts of thee served to amuse these moments of expectation!—What a difference, alas!—Dinner—it is taken away as soon as over, and we regret it not!—It returns again with the return of appetite.—The beef of to-morrow will succeed to the mutton of to-day, as the mutton of to-day succeeded to the veal of yesterday. But when once the heart has been occupied by a beloved object, in vain would we attempt to supply the chasm by another. How easily are our desires transferred from dish to dish!—Love only, dear, delusive, delightful love, restrains our wandering appetites, and confines them to a particular gratification!... _Post-horn blows; re-enter_ LANDLADY. LAND. Madam, the post-waggon is just come in with only a single gentlewoman. MAT. Then show her up—and let us have dinner instantly; [_Landlady going_] and remember—[_after a moment’s recollection, and with great earnestness_]—remember the toasted cheese. [_Exit Landlady._ CECILIA _enters, in a brown cloth riding-dress, as if just alighted from the post-waggon._ MAT. Madam, you seem to have had an unpleasant journey, if I may judge from the dust on your riding-habit. CEC. The way was dusty, madam, but the weather was delightful. It recalled to me those blissful moments when the rays of desire first vibrated through my soul. MAT. [_Aside._] Thank Heaven! I have at last found a heart which is in unison with my own. [_To Cecilia_]—Yes, I understand you—the first pulsation of sentiment—the silver tones upon the yet unsounded harp.... CEC. The dawn of life—when this blossom [_putting her hand upon her heart_] first expanded its petals to the penetrating dart of love! MAT. Yes—the time—the golden time, when the first beams of the morning meet and embrace one another!—The blooming blue upon the yet unplucked plum!... CEC. Your countenance grows animated, my dear madam. MAT. And yours too is glowing with illumination.