la peine
D'abandonner le celeste domaine...."[3]

At that time everybody was reading and re-reading with delight the
masterpiece of the French Ariosto; the most serious of men smiled over
the loves of Jeanne and Dunois, the adventures of Agnes and Monrose and
the exploits of the winged ass. Every man of cultivation knew by heart
the choice passages of this diverting and philosophical poem. Evariste
Gamelin himself, stern-tempered as he was, when he recovered his
twopenny knife from Elodie's lap, recited the going down of Grisbourdon
into hell, with a good deal of spirit. The _citoyenne_ Thevenin sang
without accompaniment Nina's ballad:

"_Quand le bien-aime reviendra._"

Desmahis sang to the tune of _La Faridondaine_:

"Quelques-uns prirent le cochon
De ce bon saint Antoine,
Et lui mettant un capuchon,
Ils en firent un moine.
Il n'en coutait que la facon...."[4]

All the same Desmahis was in a pensive mood. For the moment he was
ardently in love with all the three women with whom he was playing
forfeits, and was casting burning looks of soft appeal at each in turn.
He loved Rose Thevenin for her grace, her supple figure, her clever
acting, her roving glances, and her voice that went straight to a man's
heart; he loved Elodie, because he recognized instinctively her rich
endowment of temperament and her kind, complaisant humour; he loved
Julienne Hasard, despite her colourless hair, her pale eyelashes, her
freckles and her thin bust, because, like Dunois in Voltaire's
_Pucelle_, he was always ready, in his generosity, to give the least
engaging a token of love--and the more so in this instance because she
appeared to be for the moment the most neglected, and therefore the most
amenable to his attentions. Without a trace of vanity, he was never sure
of these being agreeable; nor yet was he ever sure of their not being.
So he never omitted to offer them on the chance. Taking advantage of the
opportunities offered by the game of forfeits, he made some tender
speeches to Rose Thevenin, who showed no displeasure, but could hardly
say much in return under the jealous eyes of the _citoyen_ Jean Blaise.
He spoke more warmly still to the _citoyenne_ Elodie, whom he knew to be
pledged to Gamelin, but he was not so exacting as to want a heart all to
himself. Elodie could never care for him; but she thought him a handsome
fellow and did not altogether succeed in hiding the fact from him.
Finall