“Ariel for looks, Caliban for wickedness.”
“And Crispin?”
“Crispin is Gonzalo, the honest old counsellor.”
Helena made a pretty grimace, and ordered Maurice back to his chair, which was at a safe distance, and did not admit of any embarrassing endearments.
“Miranda was very fond of Ariel, wasn’t she?”
“Yes, I suppose so, but she hated Caliban. Do you like Caliban?”
“Well, I like Ariel.”
“Then what about Ariel-Caliban—Caliphronas?” asked Maurice, vexed at her fencing.
“I can’t bear him—and yet,” continued Helena reflectively, with a certain spice of malice, “there is something nice about him.”
“You can’t bear him, and yet there is something nice about him!” echoed Maurice bitterly. “I don’t understand you.”