“Yes, without doubt,” replied Zelida; “to me it seems hard to be like those, for whom I had put on a sovereign contempt. In order to avoid this mortification, methinks I would fly to the world’s end.”

“Set out, my dear,” continued Sophia; “for my part, I stay⁠—But apropos, I advise you to furnish yourself with some secret, to prevent your Toy from blabbing on the road.”

“Indeed,” replied Zelida, “pleasantry here has a very ill grace, and your intrepidity⁠—”

“You are mistaken, Zelida, there is not a grain of intrepidity in my proceeding. To let things go their own way, when we cannot stop them, is resignation. I see that I am to be dishonoured: well then, dishonour for dishonour, I shall spare myself as much of the uneasiness as I can.”