"
"Ah, the excellent Monk! He is the family hero. I wonder if he
enjoys it more than you? Did he really never let you guess how much
he was hurt?"
"I asked him once; but he said it was only a dig in the side, and
would go off."
"Ah, well! Allen says it is accident that makes the hero. Now the
Monk has been as good as the hyena knight of the Jotapata, who was a
mixture of Tyr, with his hand in the wolf's mouth, and of Kunimund,
when he persuaded Amala that his blood running into the river was
only the sunset."
"Don't," said Sydney. "I won't have it made nonsense of!"
"Indeed," said Babie, almost piteously, "I meant it for the most
glorious possible praise; but somehow people always seem to take me
for a little hard bit of spar, a barbarian, or a baby; I wish I had a
more sensible name!"
"Infanta, his princess, is what Duke always calls you," said Sydney,
drawing her fondly to nestle close to her on the bed in her fire-lit
room. "Do you know one of the thoughts I had time for in that
dreadful eternity by the river, was how I wished it were you that
were going to be a daughter to poor mamma."
"Esther will make a very kind, gentle, tender one."
"Oh, yes; but she won't be quite what you are. We have all been
children together, and you have fitted in with us ever since that
journey when we talked incessantly about Jotapata.
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