"Well," said I, I am afraid rather saucily, "so long as he does not want to marry me, I do not much care what he does."
Monseigneur pinched my ear, kissed me, and seemed extremely amused.
"Thee? No, no! Not just yet, my little cabbage. Not just yet! But suppose he wanted to marry Alix?"
"Does he want to marry Alix?"
"He does."
"And under your good leave, Monseigneur?"
"Well, yes. I see no good reason to the contrary, my little cat. He is a brave knight, and has a fine castle, and is a real Carlovingian."[#]
[#] Throughout France in the Middle Ages, the Carlovingian blood was rated at an extravagant value.
"He is a donkey!" said I. "Real, too."
"Ha, hush, then!" replied Monseigneur, yet laughing, and patting my cheek. "Well, well—perhaps not overburdened with brains—how sharp thou art, child, to be sure! (No want of brains in that direction.) But a good, worthy man, my cabbage, and a stalwart knight."