Every one was moved by her touching pathos, of which they could not guess the true cause. They attributed it, lamely enough, to her emotion on seeing Jules thus brought back to the bosom of his family. To divert their attention, Jules hastened to say:
"But it's myself that has brought the pretty song with me from France."
"Let us have your pretty song," arose the cry on all sides.
"No," said Jules, "I am keeping it for Mademoiselle Vincelot, to whom I wish to teach it."
Now the young lady in question had for some years been declaring herself very hostile to the idea of marriage; indeed, she had avowed a pronounced preference for celibacy. But Jules knew that a certain widower, not waiting quite so long as decorum required, had overcome the strange repugnance of this tigress of chastity, and had even prevailed upon her to name the day. This declared opponent of marriage was in no hurry to thank Jules, whose malicious waggery she knew too well; but every one cried persistently: "The song! Give us the song, and you can teach it to Elise at your leisure."
"As you will," said Jules. "It is very short, but is not wanting in spice:
"A maiden is a bird
That seems to love the cage,
Enamored of the nest
That nursed her tender age;
But leave the window wide
And, presto! she's outside
And off on eager wing
To mate and sing."
They chaffed Elise a good deal, who, like all prudes, took their pleasantries with rather a bad grace, seeing which, Madame D'Haberville gave the signal, and the company arose and went into the drawing-room. Elise, as she was passing Jules, gave him a pinch that nearly brought the blood.
"Come, my fair one, whose claws are so sharp," exclaimed Jules, "is this such a caress as you destined for your future spouse, this which you are now bestowing on one of your best friends? Happy spouse! May Heaven keep much joy for him at the last!"