"I believe thou hast told me that before," he returned with provoking coolness.
I dashed away, for I knew I might as well talk to Damoiselle Melisende's pet weasel.
I do not like the Count of Tripoli. The more I see of him, the less I like him. And I do not like his fawning professions of friendship for Guy. Guy does not see through it a bit. I believe he only means to use Guy as a ladder by which to climb himself, and as soon as he is at the top, he will kick the ladder down behind him.
Did I not say that Amaury was an idiot? And is it not true? Here is our sister Eschine the mother of a pretty little baby, and instead of being thankful that Eschine and the infant are doing well, there goes Amaury growling and grumbling about the house because his child is a girl. Nay, he does more, for he snarls at Eschine, as if it were her fault, poor thing!
"She knows I wanted a boy!" he said this morning.
Men are such selfish simpletons!
To see how coolly Eschine takes it is the strangest thing of all.
"I was afraid he would be disappointed," she said calmly. "You see, men don't think much of girls."
"Men are all donkeys," said I, "and Amaury deserves to be king of the donkeys."
Eschine seemed to think that very funny.