This caused Peregrine a slight inward wince, brought his light statement closer to book. In a sudden flash he saw his words not too wise. Truly may confidence in himself lead a man far, and yet no nearer his goal. Her question, drawn at a venture, shot very near home. Yet he had no mind to betray this thought to the laughing girl.
“Truly,” he said airily enough, “at the moment it hath led me to the company of a very fair egoist.”
Head on one side she surveyed him, doubtful, questioning. “I know not that word,” she said.
“I see it meaning one exceeding conscious of their own personality,” remarked Peregrine. “An’ you be not conscious of yours, I stand rebuked.”
She mused a moment. “An’ you mean that I know well that I am Méllisande the Fair, as men call me, that I take pleasure in my beauty and my health, then you need no rebuke.”
“Indeed,” said Peregrine smiling at her naïveté, “I mean that very precisely.”
“Then,” quoth she, with her ever ready laugh, “the word suits well enough.” She dropped to silence a moment; then spoke. “Whither fare you now?”
“I fear me,” said Peregrine, “that I fare on a very elusive quest.”
“What manner of quest?”
“The quest of a woman.”