M. de Rueille looked aghast, and, stopping his ears, read aloud from the manuscript:
"'You know I do not believe a word of it.'"
"Strike that out," said Jean, "and put: 'I do not believe it at all, you know.' And now the poet answers:
"'L'âme d'un symboliste,
Madame, est un coffret mélancolique d'améthyste
A serrure de diamant.
Il suffit de savoir l'ouvrir et la comprendre
Et le trésor éclos illumine la chambre
Et sourit la tristesse aux lèvres des amants.'"
"Is that at all amusing?" asked M. de Rueille.
"Well, hang it all!" exclaimed Jean irritably, "I do not say that it is precisely a chef-d'œuvre! Bijou asked for a couplet—I have given her a couplet to the best of my ability, but I don't wish to hinder you from giving us a better one."
"To what air will that go?" asked Bijou.
"Ah, yes, that's true, we want an air for it. What is there?"
"You might put 'Air. J'en guette un petit de mon âge,'" suggested Rueille.
"Does that go to it?"