“How sad it would be if she loved you in vain!”
“I should think it were sadder,” the great witling said,
“If loving bold Roland, bold Roland she’d wed.”
With a little small wit—a supposed repartee,
Thus every one went on their own merry way.
They gathered in groups, as you’ve seen dancers do,
Discussing a well-worn gossip or two;
Louisa was telling a personal affair
Which Neoma was hearing with sisterly care.