How cold and still! With what an icy glow
The stars are shining over the château!
And yonder, where the chapel roofs rise dark,
The crusted snow gives out a diamond spark.
Eleven strokes the great hall clock has rung.
Well, brother Henri, is your stocking hung?
Henri (joining Lucienne at front of stage).
All's ready, sister; see how slim and white
Both stockings glimmer in the doubtful light.
I can't help wondering, as I watch them thus,
What gifts the Christinas Saint will bring to us.
Lucienne.
Oh, everything we've wanted for a year!
To me a painted doll in bridal gear;
To you a sword, a cup and ball, a top;
To me, again—
Henri.
Lucienne, I pray you, stop.
Dear sister, I've a secret to confess.
Lucienne (eagerly).
What is it, Henri? Anything I'll guess?
Ah, there! your face reveals it ere you speak:
You want a falcon, beautiful and sleek,
To hunt with in the spring, when field and glade
Hear the sweet bugles of the cavalcade.
Who knows?—Perchance good luck your bird may bring,
Tied to the chimney by a silken string.
Henri.