“Rather an elastic kind of patriotism was that of Rouget de Lisle,” observes Miss Mundella laughingly as she finishes, her eyes sparkling and cheeks warm with the verve she has put into her song; “most of his chansons are charmingly spirited, and he is credited with fifty I think; but there are some thoroughly imperialistic, others republican, and others again legitimist,—all got up for the occasion.”
“Yes,” answers Claude, as the inspiriting music, combined with the fascination of Miss Mundella’s presence, renders that young man gradually oblivious of his suspicions, “and he was rather fond of annexing other people’s musical ideas, if the German critics are to be believed. You know they say he got his grand Marseillaise hymn from a Deutscher named Holzmann, some time before he wrote his impromptu masterpiece chez Baron Dietrich.”
“I have never heard that sin laid to his charge before,” remarks Lileth, striking some sonorous chords upon the keys as she speaks. “Are you great on musical anecdotes? I dote on them.”
“Oh no. I know little or nothing upon the subject. I’m really afraid I couldn’t tell you even Mendelssohn’s surname, if you asked it, correctly. But I remember about Rouget because I saw the house when I was at Strasbourg, and more particularly because it was there I heard a very good story, that in my opinion eclipses anything in the way of French wit I’ve ever heard before or since.”
“Oh, will you repeat it to me?”
“Well, I’m rather a bad hand at a story,” responds Claude, “but I will try to give you a general idea of the joke, which was attributed either to Rouget de Lisle himself or to some relative of his. I daresay it has been put in the mouths of many other notables as well.
“There was a grand wedding taking place at the parish church, and the charming bride, all blushes and lace-veil, was tremblingly signing her name in the register, when, horror of horrors, she upset the contents of the ink bottle over her wedding robes! All the vestry was in a commotion directly, and the little bridesmaids were like to faint when they saw the horrible black stains destroying the spotless purity of the bridal vestments. What a bad omen! Worse than spilling the salt at the breakfast. Everybody was about to rush forward to commiserate with the unhappy bride.
“But De Lisle’s relative, or somebody else’s relative, as the case may be, stepped forward, and, smiling on the woeful faces, took all the sting out of the accident; he even turned the mishap into the cause of much merriment, with a singularly happy bon mot:—
“‘Mais c’est tout naturel,’ he said, ‘aussitôt que mademoiselle est arrivé au port, elle a jeté l’ancre.’”
When Claude ceases speaking, Lileth shows her appreciation of his anecdote with a low, musical laugh. Then, taking advantage of the opportunity afforded her, she proceeds to give Angland a good dose of the kind of music that she observes has effect upon him; hoping that in the intervals of playing, by a skilfully conducted conversation, to worm a little useful information from him as to his plans, as he warms to her fascinations and becomes confidentially inclined.