"Nay, I suppose we shall be somewhere," was Eschine’s grave answer. "Oh, well, don’t moralise!" said I. "But thou knowest, if we were always to look at things in that style, nothing would ever signify any thing. It makes me feel as queer as Messire Renaud’s notions—as if all the world, and I in it, had gone into a jelly, and nothing was any thing." Eschine laughed. But Eschine’s laughter is always quiet. "I think thou dost not quite understand me, Elaine," said she. "I do not use such phrases of things that do matter, but of those that do not. I should not say such words respecting real troubles, however small. But are there not a great many events in life, of which you can make troubles or not, as you choose? An ill-dressed dish,—a disappointment about the colour of a tunic,—a misunderstanding about the pattern of a trimming,—a cut in one’s finger,—and such as these,—is it not very foolish to make one’s self miserable about them? What can be more silly than to spend half an hour in fretting over an inconvenience which did not last a quarter?" "My dear Eschine, it sounds very grand!" said I. "Why dost thou not teach Amaury to look at things in that charming way? He frets over mistakes and inconveniences far more than Guy and I do." Eschine’s smile had more patience than amusement in it. "For the same reason, Elaine, that I do not teach yonder crane to sing like a nightingale." I can guess that parable. It would be mere waste of time and labour. Guy did not forget my birthday yesterday; he gave me a beautiful coral necklace, which one knows is good against poison. (I will take care to wear it whenever Count Raymond is present.) Lady Sybil gave me a lovely ring, set with an opal; and if I were at Acre, and had a bay-leaf to wrap round it, I would go into the Count’s chamber invisible, and listen to him. Eschine’s gift was a silver pomander, with a chain to hang it by. Amaury (just like him!) forgot all about it till this morning, and then gave me a very pretty gold filagree case, containing the holy Evangel of Saint Luke, to hang round my neck for an amulet. Am I really nineteen years of age? I begin to feel so old!—and yet I am the youngest of us.