Goodness,” said an exhausted Lady Maccon, “are babies customarily that repulsive looking?”
Madame Lefoux pursed her lips and turned the infant about, as though she hadn’t quite looked closely before.
“I assure you, the appearance improves with time.”
Alexia held out her arms—her dress was already ruined anyway—and received the pink wriggling thing into her embrace. She smiled up at her husband.
“I told you it would be a girl.”
“Why isna she crying?” complained Lord Maccon. “Shouldna she be crying? Aren’t all bairns supposed to cry?”
“Perhaps she’s mute,” suggested Alexia. “Be a sensible thing with parents like us.”
Lord Maccon looked properly horrified at the idea.

Autore: Gail Carriger