“What is thine age, pretty one?” said I.
“I am thirteen.”
“Thou art wrong, my heart,” said her friend. “Thou hast not yet completed thy twelfth year.”
“The time will come,” quoth I, “when thou wilt diminish the tale of thy years instead of increasing it.”
“I shall never tell a lie, sir; of that I am sure.”
“So thou wouldst become a nun, my fair friend?”
“I have not yet that vocation; but naught shall force me to lie, even though I should live in the world.”
“Thou art wrong, for thou wilt begin to lie from the moment thou hast a lover.”
“Will my lover also tell lies?”
“Assuredly he will.”