"And how is your lover?"
"Pretty well, thank you," was the answer. "He is rather ailing, poor young man."
"He has delicate health?" asked the Baroness, laughing.
"I should think so! He is fair. A sooty thing like me can love none but a fair man with a color like the moon."
"But who is he? What does he do?" asked Hortense. "Is he a prince?"
"A prince of artisans, as I am queen of the bobbin. Is a poor woman like me likely to find a lover in a man with a fine house and money in the funds, or in a duke of the realm, or some Prince Charming out of a fairy tale?"
"Oh, I should so much like to see him!" cried Hortense, smiling.
"To see what a man can be like who can love the Nanny Goat?" retorted Lisbeth.
"He must be some monster of an old clerk, with a goat's beard!" Hortense said to her mother.
"Well, then, you are quite mistaken, mademoiselle."