Blanche, being asked to sing her favorite song of Blaise and Babette, endeavored to excuse herself and substitute another; but the young ladies insisted, crying: "Let us have Blaise and Babette by all means; the minor is so touching."
"Yes," said Jules, "that is a minor, with its 'My love it is my life'; a minor to touch the tenderest chord in the feminine heart. Quick, let us have the sweet minor, to touch the hearts of these charming young ladies!"
"We'll make you pay for that in blindman's buff," said one of them.
"And in the game of forfeits," said another.
"Look out for yourself, my boy," said Jules, addressing himself, "for in the hands of these young ladies you stand no better chance than a cat without claws would in--hades! No matter. Sing away, my dear sister. Your voice, perhaps, like that of Orpheus, will assuage the fury of your enemies."
"The wretch!" chorused the young ladies, "to compare us--But, never mind, we'll settle with you later. Meanwhile, sing us the song, Blanche, dear."
The latter still hesitated. Then, fearing to attract attention by her refusal, she sang the following song with tears in her voice. It was the cry of a pure love finding utterance, in spite of all her efforts to bury it in her heart:
"For thee, dear heart, these flowers I twine. My Blaise, accept of thy Babette The warm rose and the orange-flower, And jessamine and violet. Be not thy passion like the bloom, That shines a day and disappears. My love is an undying light, And will not change for time or tears.
"Dear, be not like the butterfly That knows each blossom in the glades, And cheapen not thy sighs and vows Among the laughing village maids. Such loves are but the transient bloom That shines a day and disappears. My love is an undying light, And will not change for time or tears.
"If I should find my beauty fade, If I must watch these charms depart, Dear, see thou but my tenderness-- Oh, look thou only on my heart! Remember how the transient bloom Shines for a day and disappears. My love is an undying light, And will not change for time or tears."
Every one was moved by her touching pathos, of which they could not guess the true cause. They attributed it, lamely enough, to her emotion on seeing Jules thus brought back to the bosom of his family. To divert their attention, Jules hastened to say: