“Ah, madame, it is the chanson of a young man who demands of his blonde why she will not marry him. He says that he has waited long time, and the flowers are falling from the rose-tree, and he is very sad.”
“And does she give a reason?”
“Yes, madame—that is to say, a reason of a certain sort; she declares that she is not quite ready; he must wait until the rose-tree adorns itself again.”
“And what is the end—do they get married at last?”
“But I do not know, madame. The chanson does not go so far. It ceases with the complaint of the young man. And it is a very uncertain affair—this affair of the heart—is it not?”
Then, as if he turned from such perplexing mysteries to something plain and sure and easy to understand, he breaks out into the jolliest of all Canadian songs:
“My bark canoe that flies, that flies,
Hola! my bark canoe!”
III.
THE ISLAND POOL.