"In a great hurry, eh?" said Jacques, sighing.
"Yes, sir."
"Do not call me sir, my dearest Miss Belle-bouche—it sounds so formal and unpoetical."
"What then shall I call you?" laughed Belle-bouche, with a slight tremor in her voice.
"Strephon, or Corydon, or Daphnis," said Jacques; "for you are Phillis, you know."
Belle-bouche turned the color of a peony, and said faintly:
"I thought my name was Chloe the other day."
"Yes," said the ready Jacques, "but that was when my own name was Corydon."
"Corydon?"
"Yes, yes," sighed Jacques, "the victim of the lovely Chloe's beauty in the old days of Arcady."