human
Why, you are as young as I am, and white and gold as the little young moon, and very, very sweet, like honey! cried the girl, in French as good as Sanda's, though with the throaty, thrushlike notes that Spaniards and Arabs put into every language.
gpt
I am glad, oh, _really_ glad, that you have come to be with me! Now I see you I know I was foolish to be afraid.
human
Afraid of me? she echoed.
gpt
Oh, you couldn't have been afraid of _me_!
human
But I was, said Ourïeda.
gpt
I was afraid until this minute.
human
Why? asked Sanda.
gpt
Did you fancy I might be big and old and cross, perhaps with stick-out teeth and spectacles, like Englishwomen in French caricatures?
human
No, I have never seen any French caricatures, she answered.
gpt
I hardly know what they are. And I did not think you would be old, because the Agha, my father, told me you were but a baby when he first knew your father, the Colonel DeLisle. Still, I did not understand that you would look as young as I do, or that you would have a face like a white flower, and eyes with truth shining in them, as our wise women say it shines up like a star out of darkness from the bottom of a well.
human
In my country they say the very same thing about truth and a well, returned Sanda, blushing faintly under the oddly compelling gaze of the sad young eyes.
gpt
But do tell me why you felt afraid, if you didn't think I should be old and disagreeable?
human
Hush! she said,
gpt
--and her voice hardened--