[Alois grins at those pursed lips, and it's not really a wicked grin; it's too boyish and young, even, to be a proper smirk. He must be tickled. But it's fleeting, and as always, he makes a great show of himself, turning his face again toward the forest so he can lift his chin, stick up his nose, and look haughty.]

I don't mope, of course. It's good and proper to take a rest for oneself, when oneself is in need of a little extra care. Besides, don't you think trying to escape is a little too hopeful? Who's that foolish? Come now.