This tree; have no fear,
Only thee and me!”
The shy wanderer approaches diffidently, and then the maiden opens her little luncheon basket, which hangs from her shoulders by blue silken ribbons, and eats a portion of a roll; to him she offers the remainder. The fascination of the moment overrides all scruples, and Regnault, as she has called him, kneels at his enchantress’s feet, strokes her hands and arms, and protests his love. The damsel is willy-nilly, and naïvely cries: “All fall in love, and all fall out; and so may you, fair sir, for aught I know!” Carried away by the vehemence of his passion, Regnault tries to seize the girl and press his hot lips upon hers, so coral pink; but she evades him, slips from his grasp, and, presto! she has vanished. All dazy-wazy Regnault rises, holds out his hands beseechingly, and then, folding them upon his breast, with bowed head he seeks once more the mountain shrine, and before our sweet Lady of Consolation pours out his heart and his soul. Compline still finds him saying his Aves, and Night covers him with her restful shroud; his last words are addressed to his meadow nymph:
“T’ameray très parfaictment,
Du bon du Cuer si loyaument,
Que ne te fauldray nullement
Jusques à mort.”
“I love thee perfectly,
From bottom of my heart;
I will never fail thee