“Sing, dearest Clemence. It seems so long since I heard your voice.”
“How can I sing when my heart is sad?” But even as she spoke she was
sorry, since she knew that the good spirits of the little party depended
largely on herself.
“What shall I sing, Pierre?” she asked, after a moment’s pause, and
then, as if it had been on the tip of her tongue all the while, began,—
“Chante, rossignol, chante,
Toi qu’as le cœur tant gai.
“Pour moi, je ne l’ai guère,
Mon amant m’a quittée,
“Pour un bouton de rose
Que trop tôt j’ai donné.
“Je voudrais que la rose
Fût encore au rosier;
“Et que la rosier même
Fût encore a planter;
“Et que mon ami Pierre
Fût encore a m’aimer.
“Tra la la, la la lere,
Tra la lere, de la ri ra.”
No doubt it was the mocking-bird’s song which rang from the trees which
brought to the mind of Clemence this song, which had been a favourite of
theirs at home, and which told so musically of the nightingale’s song,
of the red of the rose, and of the love of “Pierre.”
In five minutes the scene seemed to change from gloom to gaiety. Annette
was cooing, Marie kept time to the gay little tune with the great fan
which seldom left her hand, while the little cat in her efforts to gain
her freedom tipped over her basket and set them all laughing.
The Bayou Gentilly, up which they were travelling in the pirogues, which
were hardly more than dug-out canoes, was bordered at intervals on
either side by the plantations of settlers who had owned the land for
fifty years and over in some cases.
“Why, Pierre, how is this?” said Clemence, breaking off her song; “first
the wilderness, then, see, the fields are planted!”
“These plantations are worked by the order of the King,” answered
Pierre, “and the little shrubs with berries which have such fresh green
leaves are the myrtle-wax bushes, from which wax for candles is made. We
ourselves will have our plantation bordering on the Bayou set with such
bushes as these; it is so directed.”
“But I thought indigo and sugar-cane were what we were to plant. I know
that I could not bring half the things I wished, lest there should not
be room for the indigo seeds and the little canes.”