love makes all things gay,
Oh follow where she leads--
When beauteous looks decay,
What dreary life succeeds!
And ah! believe me, perfect bliss,
A joy, where peace and triumph reign,
Is when a maiden, loved like this,
Has learnt 'tis sweet to love again!"

The songster finished, and the ardent crowd
Of listeners clapped their hands in praises loud.

"Oh! what a lovely song!" they cried. "Who is the poet?"
"'Tis Pascal," answered Thomas, "that has made it!"
"Bravo! Long live Pascal!" exclaimed the fervent crowd.

Nothing said Franconnette; but she rejoiced--was proud--
At having so much love evoked,
And in a song so touching,
Before this crowd admiring.

Then she became more serious as she thought of Pascal;
"How brave he is! 'Tis all for him; he has not got his equal!
How he paints love! All praise him without doubt;
And his sweet song--so touching!" for now by heart she knows it.
"But if he loves at last, why does he hide away?"
Then turning suddenly, she says--
"Thomas, he is not here, away he stays;
I would him compliment; can he not come?"
"Oh! now he cannot; but remains at home."

Then spoke the jealous Lawrence: "Pascal knows
He cannot any other songs compose;
Poor fellow! almost ruined quite he is;
His father's most infirm--stretched out, and cannot rise;
The baker will not give him bread, he is constrained to debts."

Then Franconnette grew pale, and said, "And he so very good!
Poor lad! how much he suffers; and now he wants his food!"

"My faith!" said Lawrence, a heart of goodness aping,
"They say that now he goes a-begging!"
"You lie!" cried Thomas, "hold thy serpent's tongue!
Pascal, 'tis true, is working, yet with harm,
Since, for this maiden, he has suffered in his arm;
But he is cured; heed not this spiteful knave!
He works now all alone, for he is strong and brave."
If someone on the girl his eyes had set,
He would have seen tears on the cheeks of Franconnette.

"Let's 'Hunt the Slipper!"' cried the maids;
Round a wide ring they sat, the jades.
Slipper was bid by Franconnette,
But in a twinkle, Marionette--
"Lawrence, hast thou my slipper?" "No, demoiselle!"
"Rise then, and seek it now, ah, well!"
Lawrence, exulting in his features,
Said, "Franconnette, hast thou my slipper?"
"No, sir!" "'Tis false!" It was beneath her seat!
"Tho