G. P. R. James,
One in a Thousand; or, The Days of Henri Quatre
“ Real!" exclaimed D'Aubin, "St. Real! I have more than suspicions there.""Pshaw!" cried the dwarf; "she thinks not of him. He may love her, perhaps, but she thinks not of him, but as a brave good-humoured lad, with wit enough to lead a score or two of iron-pated soldiers. But, once convince her that you love her, and that those who have told her you loved another were interested deceivers, and you will soon find the ice will melt, and all the coldness pass away. And now, my Lord, I have told you all. ”
