After the winding was over, the songs and dances began to the music of a tambourin.

The queen, admired by all, sang and danced like the rest.
Pascal was not there; his mother was poor, and she endeavoured to persuade him to remain at home and work.

After a short struggle with himself, Pascal yielded.

He turned aside to his forge in silent dejection; and soon the anvil was ringing and the sparks were flying, while away down in the village the busking went merrily on.

"If the prettiest were always the most sensible," says Jasmin, "how much my Franconnette might have accomplished;" but instead of this, she flitted from place to place, idle and gay, jesting, singing, dancing, and, as usual, bewitching all.
Then Thomas, Pascal's friend, asked leave to sing a few verses; and, fixing his keen eyes upon the coquette, he began in tones of lute-like sweetness the following song, entitled 'The Syren with a Heart of Ice.' We have translated it, as nearly as possible, from the Gascon dialect.
"Faribolo pastouro, Sereno al co de glas, Oh! digo, digo couro Entendren tinda l'houro Oun t'amistouzaras.
Toutjour fariboulejes, Et quand parpailloulejes La foulo que mestrejes, Sur toun cami set met Et te siet.
Mais res d'acos, maynado, Al bounhur pot mena; Qu'es acos d'estre aymado, Quand on sat pas ayma ?" "Wayward shepherd maid, Syren with heart of ice, Oh! tell us, tell us! when We listen for the hour When thou shalt feel Ever so free and gay, And when you flutter o'er The number you subdue, Upon thy path they fall At thy feet.
But nothing comes of this, young maid, To happiness it never leads; What is it to be loved like this If you ne'er can love again ?" Such poetry however defies translation.