The whole disturbance which the word used by Gwynplaine had produced in her ended in her saying one day,—
"To be ugly—what is it? It is to do wrong. Gwynplaine only does good. He is handsome."
Then, under the form of interrogation so familiar to children and to the blind, she resumed,—
"To see—what is it that you call seeing? For my own part, I cannot see; I know. It seems that to see means to hide."
"What do you mean?" said Gwynplaine.
Dea answered,—
"To see is a thing which conceals the true."
"No," said Gwynplaine.
"But yes," replied Dea, "since you say you are ugly."
She reflected a moment, and then said, "Story-teller!"