Alaine nodded. “I remember the couplet which Papa Louis taught me,—
‘Plus a me frapper on s’amuse,
Tant plus de marteau on y use.’
But to tell you the truth, Pierre, I am not a patient being. I am full of indignation many times a day, and I wonder if I will ever be called a patient Huguenot. That anvil, it is because of Beza’s words that we have it for an emblem, is it not so? I like better the marigold myself.”
“And I like the anvil,” returned Pierre.
Alaine gave him a half-saucy look from under her long lashes. “Yes, you are more like an anvil,” she told him.
“Quite hard you mean?”
“I did not say so. Perhaps I meant very useful.”
“And you are more like the marigold.”
“Quite useless?”