There was a kind of support in the shy heave of her surprise. Low-lived dogs! And they look it! By Christ, they look it! --They behaved rightly, cried Dante. To see her, without a convulsion of her small pink face, not even feign to glance in the direction of the prodigy I announced, but only, instead of that, turn at ME an expression of hard, still gravity, an expression absolutely new and unprecedented and that appeared to read and accuse and judge me-- this was a stroke that somehow converted the little girl herself into the very presence that could make me quail. The boys answered him phrase by phrase.