"Who are you?" asked he, chucking the child under the chin. "Sire," she answered, gravely, "I am Donna Dolores Rosario Coral Concha Balthazara Melchiora Gaspara y Todos Santos, the daughter of the noble knight Don Pasquale Bartolomeo Francesco de Asiz y--" "Enough," said the king. "I did not ask for your genealogy; we are witnessing neither your baptism nor your marriage. What are you commonly called?" "Sire," replied she, "I am called Pazza."[1] [Footnote 1: That is to say, Madcap, in Italian. It appears that a very mixed language is spoken in the kingdom of Wild Oats.] "And why are you called Pazza?" "Because it is not my name." "That is strange," said the king. "No, it is natural," replied the child. "My aunt pretends that I am too giddy for any saint to wish to own me for her goddaughter, and that is why she has given me a name that can offend no one in Paradise." "Well answered, my child. I see that you are not an ordinary girl. The saints in Paradise are not always treated with such consideration. Since you know so much, tell me what is a wise man?" "A wise man, sire, is one who knows what he says when he speaks, and what he does when he acts." "Upon my word," exclaimed the king, "if my wise men were what you fancied them, I would make the Academy of Sciences my council of state, and would give it my kingdom to govern. What is an ignorant man?" "Sire," returned Pazza, "there are three kinds of ignorant men: he who knows nothing, he who talks of what he does not know, and he who will learn nothing; all three are fit for nothing but to be burned or hung." "That is a proverb. Do you know what proverbs are called?" "Yes, sire; they are called the wisdom of nations." "And why are they called so?" "Because they are mad; they say whatever you please; they are of all colors, to suit all tastes. Proverbs are like bells, which answer yes or no according to the humor of their listener." Upon which, springing with both feet from the ground, Pazza caught a fly that was buzzing about the king's nose; then, leaving Bizarre astonished, she took her doll and, seating herself on the ground, began to rock it in her arms. "Well, sire," the countess said, "what do you think of this child?" "She has too much wit," answered the king; "she will not live long." "Ah, sire," exclaimed Pazza, "you are not complimentary to my aunt; she is considerably older than I am." "Hush, gipsy!" said the old lady, smiling; "don't you know that nobody lectures kings?"