"Can I see into the inmost heart of my Damoiselle? It is like a shut-up coffer, this human heart. I can only look on the outside, I. But on the outside, I see two things. My Damoiselle is noble, and she is clever. And she knows both."
"Which is the worse, Margot?"
"Ha! Both are bad enough, to make pride. But this I think: that even a king can never fancy himself so noble as the good God; yet a good many of us think ourselves quite as wise."
"O Margot!—who could think that?"
"Does my Damoiselle herself never think that she could arrange matters better than the good God is ordering them? What is that, but to say in our hearts, 'I am the wiser'?"
It is very queer, how Lady Judith and Marguerite always do think alike.
"Margot, who wouldst thou say was the holiest woman in this house?"
The answer was unhesitating.
"I do not know; I can only guess. But if my Damoiselle wishes me to guess—the noble Lady Judith, and Dame Eschine."
How very odd!