“You almost tempt me,” said Belle, “to make you decline mistress in English.”
“To make matters short,” said I, “I decline a mistress.”
“What do you mean?” said Belle, angrily.
“I have merely done what you wished me,” said I, “and in your own style; there is no other way of declining anything in English, for in English there are no declensions.”
“The rain is increasing,” said Belle.
“It is so,” said I; “I shall go to my tent; you may come, if you please; I do assure you I am not afraid of you.”
“Nor I of you,” said Belle; “so I will come. Why should I be afraid? I can take my own part; that is—”
We went into the tent and sat down, and now the rain began to pour with vehemence. “I hope we shall not be flooded in this hollow,” said I to Belle. “There is no fear of that,” said Belle; “the wandering people, amongst other names, call it the dry hollow. I believe there is a passage somewhere or other by which the wet is carried off. There must be a cloud right above us, it is so dark. Oh! what a flash!”
“And what a peal,” said I; “that is what the Hebrews call Koul Adonai—the voice of the Lord. Are you afraid?”
“No,” said Belle, “I rather like to hear it.”