That might quicken awhile our sluggish blood?
Bethink thee, I pray, good Capitaine Paul.”
Le Capitaine Paul, whom no one knows,
A soldier of fortune, scarred and browned,
A man more prized in the camp than court,
Steps into the circle and glances round;
And scornful eyes on his boldness frown,
But Marie has smiled, and he holds his ground.
What boots the rest if she bids him speak?
What matter who lists if he gains her ear?