"And Monsieur Jupiter, to whom the three fair sisters referred their claims, was most favourable to my dear and beautiful France. Ah! Jupiter was very sensible which I should love most," said the Queen; then, after a pause, she added—"O what a glorious lover Pierre Ronsard must be!"
"Oh, yes! think how tender are these lines;" and the Earl sang with a good voice—
"Bon jour, mon coeur; bon jour, ma douce vie;
Bon jour, mon oeil; bon jour, ma chère amie;
He! bon jour, ma touts belle.
Ma mignardise, bon jour,
Mes delices, mon coeur.
Mon doux printempe, ma douce fleur nouvelle."
"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Mary, with sudden animation; "I last heard those lines"—
"At the Palace de la Tournelles."
"One night"——
"Under your window?"
"Then, Mother Mary! thou knowest the singer!"
"'Twas I!" said the Earl, with a low voice.
Mary coloured deeply.