"It would not be so bad if his hair were dressed properly," continued the duenna; "but, so far, no one had been able to persuade him to have it powdered. Saint-Jean told me that just as he was about to put the powder puff to his head he got up in a rage and said, 'Anything you like except that confounded flour. I want to be able to move my head about without coughing and sneezing.' Heavens, what a savage!"

"Yet, in reality, he is quite right. If fashion did not sanction the absurdity, everybody would perceive that it is both ugly and inconvenient. Look and see if it is not more becoming to have long black hair like his?"

"Long hair like that? What a mane. It is enough to frighten one."

"Besides, boys do not have their hair powdered, and he is still a boy."

"A boy? My stars! what a brat Boys? Why he would eat them for his breakfast; he's a regular ogre. But where does the hulking dog spring from? I suppose M. le Chevalier brought him here from behind some plough. What is his name again? . . . You did tell me his name, didn't you?"

"Yes, inquisitive; I told you he is called Bernard."

"Nothing, for the present. What are you looking at?"

"He is sleeping like a dormouse. Look at the booby. I was wondering whether he resembled M. le Chevalier. Perhaps it was a momentary error --a fit of forgetfulness with some milk-maid."