“I shall tell you nothing,” said Arnulf, pouting.
“What care I? I can find out by art magic if I like.”
“I don’t believe all that. Can you find out, for instance, what he has on his throat?”
“A beard.”
“But what is under that beard?”
“A gôitre.”
“You are laughing at me.”
“Of course I am, as I shall at any one who challenges me to find out anything so silly, and so unfit.”
“I shall go.”
“Go then.” For she knew very well that he would come back again.