This point settled, she suggested that, if he could not amuse her, he had better do THE NEXT BEST THING, and that was, talk sense. “I think I had better not talk at all,” said he, “for I am no match for such a nimble tongue. And then you are so remorseless. I’ll hold my tongue, and make a sketch of this magnificent oak.” “Ay, do: draw it as it appeared on a late occasion: with two ladies flying out of it, and you rooted with dismay.” “There is no need; that scene is engraved.” “Where? in all the shops?” “No; on all our memories.” “Not on mine; not on mine. How terrified you were--ha, ha! and how terrified we should have been if you had not. Listen: once upon a time--don’t be alarmed: it was long after Noah--a frightened hare ran by a pond; the frogs splashed in the water, smit with awe. Then she said, ‘Ah ha! there are people in the world I frighten in my turn; I am the thunderbolt of war.’ Excuse my quoting La Fontaine: I am not in ‘Charles the Twelfth of Sweden’ yet. I am but a child.” “And it’s a great mercy, for when you grow up, you will be too much for me, that is evident. Come, then, Mademoiselle the Quizzer, come and adorn my sketch.” “Monsieur, shall I make you a confession? You will not be angry: I could not support your displeasure. I have a strange inclination to walk up and down this terrace while you go and draw that tree in the Pleasaunce.” “Resist that inclination; perhaps it will fly from you.” “No; you fly from me, and draw. I will rejoin you in a few minutes.” “Thank you, I’m not so stupid. You will step indoors directly.” “Do you doubt my word, sir?” asked she haughtily.