"The verses, madame, do all in their power to picture two blue eyes, blue and beautiful, like yours; it is a sonnet."
"Let us have this sonnet."
And Croustillac recited the following lines in a languorous and impassioned tone:
"They are not eyes, rather gods are they,
They are above kings in power true.
Gods, no! they are the heavens of tender blue,
And their radiant glance makes kings obey."
"One must choose, chevalier," said Blue Beard; "are they eyes, or gods, or the heavens?"
Croustillac's reply was a happy one:
"The heavens, no! each a radiant sun
Whose burning rays but blind the view.
Suns? not so, but light so strong, so true,
They predict the love but just begun!"
"Really, chevalier, I am curious to know where you will stop. Suns, I own, please me; gods also."
Croustillac continued with a languorous softness:
"Ah! if gods, would they work me ill?
If the heavens, would add more sorrow still?
Two suns? 'tis false—that orb is one——"