"You are not dancing?" severely.
"No, my Lady." Too late, perhaps, he regretted his temerity—that too unveiled and open regard.
"Why not?" more imperiously.
"I—" he began and stopped.
"You can dance?"
"A little, perhaps—"
"As well as they?" looking at the people.
"Wooden fantoccini!" said the man, a flicker of bold amusement returning to his face.
"Fantoccini?" spoke the girl impatiently. "What know you of them?"
"We Breton seamen sail far, on occasion."