human
Daughter of a thrice-accursed mother, and of a despicable race! she cried in her odd patois, which it was often better not to understand too well.
gpt
Blighted and bloodthirsty beast! But look at her now, eating with an enormous appetite a branch as big as herself. Anaconda! She would eat if the world burned. If she had, with a stroke of her twenty times condemned hoof, hurled us all to death on the rocks below, she would still eat, not even looking over the cliff to see what had become of us.
human
But you should not talk so, broke in Joseph, lover of animals.
gpt
It was not the fault of the little _âne_ that the stone was loosened. How could she know? It is you who are hard of heart, to turn upon her thus. It is because you are Catholic, and believe that the beasts have no souls.
human
It is better to have none than to be a heretic, and the soul burn, retorted Innocentina.
gpt
I am not hard-hearted. I love my young Monsieur, and would not see him injured, that is all; while you care for nothing in the world so much as your old Finois. Ah, I would I had the _insouciance_ of the _ânes_. It is after all that which keeps them young.