"Les amours sont partis Dans un bateau de verre; Le bateau a cassé a cassé— Les amours sont parterre."
"How the old women laughed—and cried—at once! It was years since they had heard it—the old song. And when these boys—their sons and grandsons—sang it, and I had trained them well—they wept for pure delight."
Again the song went on:
"Ouvrez la porte, ouvrez!
Nouvelle mariée,
Car si vous ne l'ouvrez
Vous serez accusée"
"I dressed all the young girls in old costumes," our friend continued, still in a whisper. "I ransacked all the old chests and closets about here. I got the ladies of the chateaux near by to aid me; they were so interested that many came down from Paris to see the wedding. It was a pretty sight, each in a different dress! Every century since the thirteenth was represented."
"Attendez à demain,
La fraîche matinée,
Quand mon oiseau privé
Aura pris sa volée!"
Clear, strong, free rang the young tenor's voice—and then it broke into "Comment—tu dis que Claire est là?" whereat Monsieur Paul smiled.
"That will be the next wedding—what shall I devise for that? That will also be the ending of a long lawsuit. But he should have sung the last verse—the prettiest of all. Mathieu!" Paul lifted his voice, calling into the dark.
"Oui, Monsieur Paul!"
"Sing us the last verse—"