“Don’t flatter thyself on getting out, pray,” returned Diana. “We shall never get out except by marrying, or really going into a nunnery.”
“For which I am sure I have no vocation,” laughed Elaine. “Oh, no! I shall marry; and won’t I lead my baron a dance!”
“Who is it to be, Elaine?” asked Clarice.
“Ha, chétife! How do I know? The Lady will settle that. I only hope it won’t be a man who puts oil on his hair and scents himself.”
This remark was a side-thrust at Reginald, as Olympias well knew, and she looked reproachfully at Elaine.
“Well, I hope it won’t be one who kills half-a-dozen men every morning before breakfast,” said Diana, making a hit at Fulk.
It was Roisia’s turn to look reproachful. Clarice could not help laughing.
“What dost thou think of our giddy speeches, Heliet?” said she.
Heliet looked up with her bright smile.
“Very like maidens’ fancies,” she said. “For me, I am never like to wed, so I can look on from the outside.”